The Third Journey Home
by pocky4u
Summary: Synopsis: A regular student from present day Earth is mysteriously transported to the universe of Vandread. Here goes nothing. I wonder if anyone out there remembers this story...
1. the grand entry

Synopsis: A regular teenage student from early 21st century, Earth, is mysteriously transported to the universe of Vandread. Keith Greers has no understanding of his rather confusing predicament. He cannot seem to comprehend how he could have been jettisoned from the "real world" he knows to the circus that is the Nirvana. Something else that Keith, along with the whole Nirvana crew can't understand is just how he is so capable of piloting both the vanguard and the dreads as a seasoned veteran does-- even if he has have never had any formal training in his life, unless you count Saturdays at the local arcade. Humor, culture shock, and many, many awkward pauses ensue as this boy lives the lives of his fellow Nirvana crewmembers and adjusts to the clever intricacies of living in a futuristic, gender-separated society.

Can he ever find his way home? Will he still want to go home?

Read and see…

* * *

Midnight. Tuesday 

A young man was just starting to drift off to sleep on a large charter bus. He had earlier made a personal commitment to try to stay awake, so as not to miss anything interesting along the way. Now, after literally hours of monotonously watching nothing but miles of outstretched fields, the effects of the trip were finally starting to take their toll on the boy.

Couple the young man's already exhausted, delirious state with the gentle, calming lullaby of the bus' machinery, and sleep for _anyone_ would easily be a quick and obvious outcome. Although for hours, he himself had tried to fend off the silent assassin of the waking world, his awareness of the area around him quickly faded, as his eyelids grew heavier and slowly closed. Then, finally succumbing to his body, sleep came at last to the stubborn young man.

_"I guess the Sandman can go ahead and take victory, this time," _the young man reflected, "_Well, at least I'm not the only victim,"_ he finished, referring of course to the 20 other students on the bus with him, most of which had_ also _submitted to their body's command to rest.

They were coming back from a nationwide culinary competition. Many on board, the young man included, still proudly wore their medals of gold, silver, and bronze respectively. As the boy laid his head back, gold medal tightly clutched in his bandaged hand, he tumbled for eternity into a dark, dreamless, yet familiar void...

"Keith! Hey, Keith!" boomed a voice he knew. It seems his visit to limbo has been cut short.

The boy woke with such a tumultuous start that he literally jumped up in his seat, causing his friend standing in the aisle to trip backwards, his head landing, with all of his weight behind it, onto the lap of a girl whom everyone back at their high school would have made an active effort to leave alone. What made the situation more volatile was not just the fact that she alone had walked away from the competition without a medal, but also that the girl was so overcome with disappointment that she could not sleep the entire night before. It would have been suicide to even _try_ to wake her now.

If only someone had told _him_ that...

She too jumped up rather energetically, at first wide-eyed and bewildered at being stirred so suddenly-- it was at this point, that the fuse had _just _been lit. Then, when she looked down and saw the cause of her rude awakening, the bomb itself went off entirely, as her hormonally-charged tirade of emotion began.

The other boy we now know as Keith just held his breath and said a quick, sincere prayer for his friend.

"Ian! What the hell do you think you're doing!" the girl demanded of the blonde trembling in her lap. Dumbstruck by her sudden burst of rage, and still very much stunned by his fall, the young man could only nervously answer in fragments.

"Uh...I don't know, Crystal. I was just um, ya know, trying to...wake up...a friend?" he answered honestly.

Certainly nothing close to what she wanted to hear, the girl shifted in her chair and in one motion unbuckled her seatbelt then dog piled the cowering youth as he desperately crawled on his palms away from her.

"Where do you think _you're_ going?" Crystal Nichols seethed.

She was now literally on top of the poor wriggling whelp, viciously straddling the young man's torso while her knees pinned down Ian's hands at his sides. Meanwhile, as he watched, Keith was found himself expecting the girl to expose a bloodstained set of sharp, jagged fangs, release a mind-numbing wail and ravenously devour his friend's soul through his ears. In all honesty, such a sight was not hard to imagine.

"Aw, c'mon Crystal, you know it was an accident! Please, get offa me!" Ian pleaded with his captor, as he struggled to free himself from her clutches.

The enraged brunette would have none of it, as she lifted him up by his collar, swept back a lock of auburn hair from her face, and glared down at her prey with a set of authoritative, predatory brown eyes. The young man's own terrified eyes darted nervously in and out of her gaze.

"_Oh, God, this is it!" _Ian thought_, "Dammit Keith, where are you… I could really use some help, here!" _

The girl quickly regained Ian's attention with a quick, fierce slap to his left cheek.

"Now, listen closely _Tomlinson_!" Crystal hissed. "You've been hanging on my _very last _nerve these past few days... so I'll tell you this once, and _only _once." She had quietly whispered the last 'once', to ensure only Ian could hear. "If you cross me again before this bus stops moving, you will severely jeopardize the prosperity of your _future_ descendants."

Ian looked terrified, but also puzzled. Further irritated, this time by the blonde's stupidity, she then slowly led Ian's gaze to his own crotch, just to make sure the young man understood exactly what was on the line. Gasping, Ian's eyes grew wide, as the message became increasingly clear.

"Are we on the same page, here, Ian?" she devilishly queried, a sickening grin playing wide across her face. The young man took a moment from his hyperventilating to take a deep gulp and rapidly nodded his head up and down in agreement.

"Good," the girl concluded.

With that issue apparently resolved, she released his collar, and stalked back to her seat. Ian, still amazed to have even survived the encounter, got up shakily and dropped down onto a seat next to his friend with a deep sigh. The two comrades just sat quietly for a few moments, neither one sure of what to do or say next. Then Keith, recalling his friend's cowardice during the encounter, broke the silence with a slight, barely audible chuckle. Ian, just now coming back to his senses, turned to his friend with disbelieving eyes, and then frustratingly yelped out of genuine awe.

"And just _what_ is so funny! Ya know, the only reason I was put through that was because I wanted to wake _you _up!" the peeved blonde scolded.

Keith, glad to have his friend speaking again, flashed him a sly grin.

"Well, at least you survived, right?" Keith asked, with his frameless glasses tilted down- a gesture he had perfected in grade school, to make _having_ glasses a little more respectable.

Ian turned, sighed deep, and passed a hand through his shoulder length, dirty blonde locks tied in a sloppy ponytail.

"Yeah, no thanks to you, pal! Where were you anyway? I was about to get skinned alive, and all you do is sit there and watch? Some friend you are!" he feigned, even crossing his arms with an upturned nose for the full effect. Keith could see right through this act-Ian had played the over-sensitivity card before, and it never worked. This time was certainly no exception.

"Nice try, Tomlinson, but I know you too well... now drop the act and tell me what 'emergency' you just _had_ to wake me up for," Keith requested.

"Well, _Greers,_" Ian began. The two were good enough friends to enjoy getting on each other's nerves, so mockery of last names was always a good starting point.

"If you know me like you say you do how about you use your great 'psychic prowess' to probe my mind and reveal what I'm asking?" the smug blonde continued. At this challenge, Keith turned to face his friend. He stared for a moment, grinned, and returned,

"Lemme guess: does it have something to do with a certain girl you and I know?" Ian only shook his head in disbelief.

"Oh, you're good," he conceded. "Now, seriously, what do really you think of her?" Ian's voice took on an inquisitive tone, as he waited for Keith to answer.

Unbelievably, one of the duo's favorite activities was to go around examining different things around them and offer up their own contending views. It was their personal take on a "Siskel-and-Ebert-type" friendship. A strange activity for sure, but then again, only true friends can do seemingly idiotic things together without even _realizing_ they look idiotic. Moreover, there were no truer friends; both only 17 years old, but full of talent, potential, and audacity. They had agreed that they would take over the restaurant industry as they had _everything else _that stood in their way ever since they were kids: that is, together, as a team.

Now who was the girl in question? Why, none other than Crystal's twin-sister, Carla! Girls, as it turns out, were also an excellent starting point for arguments. Ian was poised to get a conversation going, as not only he had already known Carla since Kindergarten, he was also looking forward to completely going _against _Keith's mindset.

_"After all,"_ Ian thought, "_we are best friends, and if best friends can't have different opinions, then what's the point to thought itself? _Ian could be quite the philosopher when the moment allowed.

All the blonde weasel needed from Keith now was one word, even a measly adjective, and then the argument would begin, just as it easily did concerning French fries, cars, movies, and the possible ulterior motives of circus clowns (remember, these two _were_ best friends). As such, Ian raised the question again.

"Well? What did you think of her? Don't tell me you_ haven't _been thinking about her!" he added. Keith shrugged, and turned in his seat.

"Okay," was his simple, monotone answer.

"'Okay'... What?" Ian continued, "'Okay' as in that's your opinion, or, 'okay ' as in you haven't thought about her?"

A short pause.

"'Okay' as in I wouldn't tell you_ either _way." Keith answered now with _his_ eyes closed and _his_ arms crossed; another gesture Ian had learned to take for a sign that his friend may be trying to avoid the real argument, and he certainly could not have that.

Genuinely annoyed, Ian replied, "Are you kidding me? Fuck, Keith! You had six weeks to make your move! What could have possibly kept you from even starting?"

Keith dropped his arms and cocked his head to his friend. Then, with a confident eyebrow raised, he sarcastically replied…

"Oh, I don't know... Hm, Oh wait, that's right! I remember now," he said.

Then, in a comical showing of bravado, Keith raised his palm to Ian. Gently nestled therein was a small black plastic case, and a shiny gold medal within it. Satisfied with his silent answer, the bespectacled youth thought he had finally won an argument without even having to start one. However, Ian was no fool, and he came prepared.

"Aha! So you think you can just shut me up like that, huh?" Ian asked. "Well, don't forget Keith, you weren't the_ only _one to walk away with a little bit of gold from this trip..."

With that, Ian parted his brown leather jacket halfway, bravely showing off his own proud bravado in the form of a similar amber disk shimmering brightly as it hung from Ian's neck to defy his comrade's sense of pride. There was a brief standoff, as friend eyed friend, waiting to see who broke the stare first. However, these two had known each other too long to be ruffled by something so pointless; Keith really was happy for his friend's achievements at the competition and vice versa-after all, it was a fair tie. Therefore, out of mutual respect, they both put their medals (and their prides) aside as the bus continued its journey home.

* * *

2:51 AM Tuesday 

The large, white charter bus had parked was beginning to unload the luggage as well as the students it had carried. Many were still heavily dozed from the long trip, as well as the ungodly hour at which they were expected to call their parents for rides to get home. Luckily, that would not have to be too much of a problem for Keith; his and Ian's houses; or rather apartment complex was not too far from his school. In fact, if he ever really got around to it, he might just have gotten up early enough one of these days to actually walk the brisk four miles back and forth... if he ever got around to it.

Well, either way, it looked as though he had no choice tonight but to walk. He knew that at this hour his mother would have just gotten home from the restaurant. The restaurant...the place where he was first introduced to what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. The boy smiled and ran a hand through his jet-black hair that was trimmed a little shorter than Ian's was, but was kept neater and was never as sloppy. He licked his lips at the thought of his future career conquests as Ian rummaged through a huge pile of similar-looking pieces of luggage.

_"Oh crap," _Keith cursed as he remembered, "_I still have to report for work tomorrow... or, is it, this morning? Well, either way I just know I'm gonna end up dozing off on the line..."_

"Hey Keith! Wait up!" The dark-haired youth came back to reality as Ian called from behind him somewhere. He turned around and spotted the tall blonde taking light steps to catch up.

"Took you long enough," Keith joked. Ian replied dryly, "Hey, it's not my fault that every bag looks the same in this damn darkness!"

Waving off the complaint with a shake of his head, Keith walked the all-too familiar path home with his friend, the same path they should have walked for years. As they sauntered through back alleyways and crabgrass yards, Ian suddenly noticed that his normally talkative, shorter friend was unusually quiet. He decided it was his turn to break the silence.

"So, about what we were talking about on the bus," he started. "You mean about Carla?" Keith asked.

"Yeah, uh, there's something I still don't get when it comes to the two of you...," stated Ian vaguely.

Keith responded with alarm, "What do you still not get? I thought we had argued every point about her. We didn't miss something, did we?"

Ian was surprised at his friend's sudden concern; usually it was he who got easily worried. He decided to tell his shorter shadow what was on his mind.

"No, I don't think we missed something," he assured him. "In fact, it was through our arguments that I realized..."

A slight pause.

"Well?" Keith asked, "What is it?"

Ian bit his lip, debating whether or not to tell his friend. He decided on the former.

"It's just... why do you want to get with her so badly?" Ian asked, "I mean, all you really know about her is through what we've argued, and even still, she doesn't really seem like the kind of girl for you, man."

Suddenly, Keith stopped completely in his tracks. Ian was so deep in his explanation/apology that he actually walked a few yards ahead without noticing that Keith was seated on a back alley stoop behind him. The ice-eyed blonde cautiously approached his friend, stopping a few feet away. Keith had that deep, burning glaze to his dark eyes that he usually saved for his siblings when they annoyed him, but this time it was strange. The familiar intensity was there, but Keith did not really seem to be looking at anything in particular: the stare seemed empty.

He was focusing into nothingness, yet with seemingly all of his might.

Ian had seen his friend like this before, so he was well aware of what he had to do: nothing. It was best now to let Keith start talking. A few moments later, and the routine followed through. The fire in Keith's eyes seemed to calm down as he raised his head towards Ian. Another moment later, Keith spoke, sounding winded. Defeated, really.

"You're right," Keith admitted. "I can't believe I hadn't seen how different Carla was from me until just now; I mean, I should've figured this out even way before we started talking about her."

He sounded detached, as if he was lost in his own thoughts. The despair in Keith's voice was alarming to Ian: Keith talked as though his mom had just died in his arms.

Keith continued, "She has a mature twin sister, I have a three year-old she-devil in pigtails and an infant for a brother. She's got parents who work at home, while I have a working mom who I barely see during the day."

The pain in Keith's eyes was only dimmed by his surprise at finally seeing "the truth." Ian only stood in quiet remorse; although he was a good friend and hated to see his partner in crime hurt, he was not good at "things of the heart" like this. Then again, sometimes he managed to pull through for his friend in ways that even he did not understand.

"Look Keith," Ian began. His tone was gentle and supportive. "I'm sorry if I brought up anything that changed your mind about Carla. But hey, there are other girls... millions of other girls, in fact." the blonde joked. The clever wisecrack spread a small, weak smile on Keith's face.

Seeing this, Ian decided to follow through with another hit.

"And at least one of them's gotta be for you... right, 'fun-size?'"

At that, Keith laughed aloud. "Fun-size" was a name Ian invented for Keith during an early childhood Halloween, while they were polishing off their chocolate stash and Ian noticed an interesting coincidence between his friend and the tinier candy bars scattered around their pile. Yes, Keith had always been the "not-quite-as-tall" friend, but Ian did not give him too much crap about it.

The tall blonde picked up his portable accomplice by the sleeve of his dark-red shirt and they laughed as only real friends could.

* * *

3:19 AM Tuesday 

The two were now busting their guts wide open in laughter as they continued their path home, recalling the events of the trip and snickering hysterically at even the most ridiculous details. Therefore, it was a shock to Keith, who, after taking a moment to regain control, first noticed they had taken a wrong turn.

"Hey Ian," he started, "This place doesn't look familiar; in fact, I don't think I've ever even _seen_ this alley before..."

The alarm in his friend's voice woke the blonde up quickly, as he started looking around for something he recognized, anything familiar that would lead them out. However, it was useless. Nothing looked the same. Finally, after a few moments' worry, Keith suggested a plan.

"Maybe we should just head down to one end of the alley? Even if it leads to a dead-end, then at least we know we can turn around and the other way should lead somewhere," he deduced. Ian nodded in agreement. Off they went, looking wildly around themselves as strange noises slowly filtered out of the darkness. An animal yelp there, a loud thump here.

All were common in a city however, so the two were used to them, but then slowly, both started hearing...voices. First, they came as whispers, only audible when things got quiet. Then they became louder, creepier, and came more often. The two boys quickened their pace as the voices seemed to be getting closer, and when they were loud enough for the boys to hear what they were saying, they broke off terrified in a full-blown sprint.

"Wait... wait... don't run, I... mean you... no ...harm! Come back... I just have... a simple question... to... ask," it wisped.

The boys would not stop, as it sounded too creepy. They had been running with their 50 lb. duffel bags for what seemed like an eternity now, when not only were they out of breath, but much to their disbelief, they were still lost in the alleyway.

"What the hell's going on?" Ian demanded. "How do we get out of here?" All the while, the voices got closer and closer, until... the two stopped running.

They had hit a dead-end.

"Dammit! We should've gone the other way!" Keith huffed.

Out of breath and literally with their backs to the wall, the two friends glanced at each other for a solution. The two quickly struck on the same idea. They had been cornered like this before, so they would react as they did all of those other times: fighting. The two boys looked for a weapon in their bags, in their pockets, or nearby; anything other than their bare hands would have been a welcome sight. Ian was without luck; there was nothing of use around, so he resorted using his blue canvas bag itself as a weapon. Still wheezing, he lifted the bag up only to end up dropping it again.

Keith, luckily, was a little more prepared. Out of his own black duffel, he produced a leather roll-case, easily mistakable for a small sleeping bag, but when he released the Velcro straps and stretched it out to its full length, he revealed a dozen sheathed kitchen knives as well as other tools he and Ian had shared in the competition.

"Hey, Ian, I think you'll have better luck with these!" Keith yelled, sliding a long carving fork as well as a sheathed ten-inch chef's knife over to his friend, who was struggling to hold his duffel bag steady.

"Thanks," Ian responded, laying his heavy bag aside as he freed the cold blade from its hard plastic prison and he held it up to bear.

He and Keith had been taking martial arts classes together since the 3rd grade, when the Johansen brothers set their sights against the duo. Despite their rigorous training to adapt with any situational weapons, a knife or _even_ a fork were no doubt welcome reassurances for Ian. Keith on the other hand, felt better to be safe than sorry, as he brought up his own ten-inch chef's knife, along with a smaller eight-inch serrated utility knife, just in case...

They held their favorite combat stances side by side, an arrangement Keith and Ian had been in many times.

The two focused to clear their minds and ready themselves for the fight. Whoever or _whatever_ it was that would emerge from those shadows, Ian and Keith had decided long before this night that anything that stood in their way would be taken down, and this new foe was no exception. Their nervous anticipation grew as they slowed down their breathing; another technique they had learned to hone down to second nature-in case they were in for a long or outnumbered fight.

A few more moments and then they were ready. Just like a hundred times before in their lives, Keith and Ian were poised to fight. They stood their ground and waited. However, no visible foe materialized before them. No strange, identifiable figure stepped forth to oppose the armed teens. The two just stood there, nervously waiting in their combat stances. The seconds seemed to stretch into eons.

One minute...

Two minutes...

Three minutes...

This was just too much. Finally, at the end of his wits and patience, Keith yelled first.

"Who's there? Why are you following us? Who are you, and WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" Exasperated, Keith dropped his stance, while Ian tensed slightly.

Still there was nothing; no response. "Come on, Ian. This is useless," Keith stated, "they must've left already..."

Then, in the depths of the alleyway, a strange bright light suddenly filled the shadows, barreling towards the boys at a terrifying speed. Keith gasped aloud as Ian's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets.

"Holy shit, he's gonna run us down!" Ian yelled.

Keith looked around for a way to escape. To his disappointment, there was nowhere to go: no open doorways, no low walls or fire escape ladders, no dumpsters to climb on top of-they were trapped. Refusing to stand down even then, the boys re-sheathed their knives and fork, Keith stuffed the smaller knife into the front pocket of his well-worn denim jeans then they grabbed their bags and stood firm, hoping to maybe jump on the hood of what they assumed to be a car, if they could time it right-another one of Ian's "easier said than done" plans. Keith looked at his beat up once-red sneakers and gulped slightly.

The light held its charge towards them... they had only one last chance to glance at each other, but even then they still would not say goodbye.

"You ready?" Keith grinned.

"I'm always, ready, short-stuff," Ian chimed back.

Then the wall of blue light seemed to rise dozens of feet into the air before sharply curving back downward like a giant tidal wave, and one of the boys were pulled inside it as they both jumped as high as their legs would allow.

* * *

I'm really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really sorry that I only posted this now. I promise you few and faithful readers left out there that this story is still just beginning. Balancing between two fics that occupy similar galaxies of ideas in my head isn't easy, and well, I'll admit I'm ready for a change of pace. Those of you in this section who've read my other fic shouldn't be alarmed, however. Just like I came back here, I'll soon return to Love Hina eventually as well. 

But not now… oh hell no, not now.

At this very moment, let me assure you that I've got my crosshairs dead-centered on Vandread. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the story as it stands, I sincerely recommend going back to read the previous chapters. And quickly. A hiatus as long as I've had from here means my return writing will push this story as fast as my ideas for it vanish from memory.

I truly apologize for making you few and faithful wait so long.

Especially you, Laser Crusader, you insatiable Vandread monkey-whore, you. Thanks for endlessly, relentlessly, annoyingly reminding me of my home-base here as well. I promise that those 22 private messages you've sent me will be answered in spades, 'kay?

None of you can even fathom how absolutely wonderful it feels to have my fingers type words for this section of the site again.

It has indeed been far too long.


	2. the stranger awakens

...Tuesday

Keith Greers was going out of his mind.

Not only was he unaware of where he was falling, but he was falling. That realization in itself is always more terrifying than whatever destination you might reach. Keith wanted terribly to open his eyes.

"Maybe if I could see where I was headed, I could think of a way of..." his voice trailed off; he could not part his eyelids.

The young man told himself repeatedly how simple it was, yet for something so childishly easy, he could not even bring himself to look at where he was heading. He nearly choked at his own feebleness.

"So this is how it ends, huh?" Keith despaired, "I'm gonna get taken out by fate in the most one-sided of deaths?!"

Then, Keith smiled, now actually content with this.

"Oh well, it's not like I didn't do all I wanted, right? What's the point in fighting anyway, no one can survive a fall like this, right? Right?" Keith asked no one. Predictably, no one answered. Keith bit his lip; it seems that even now the young man cannot convince himself to give up. He clenched his fists tightly.

"Fine, then I won't let this fall take me," Keith announced. "I've never stepped down from anyone who I knew was wrong, especially fate-- hell, there is no such thing as fate; I'm living proof of that! Wherever I end up, I SWEAR I'LL GET THERE BREATHING!" he yelled.

Then, grinning, Keith calmed down, and braced his body for impact just as he felt himself falling faster.

"Here it comes..." Keith whispered, expecting his body to flatten any moment. Then he abruptly stopped.

Stillness...

Keith was too overcome with anxiety to even notice he had already stopped falling. He heard quiet, steady breathing and tried to will himself to calm down once again. It was only when the breathing continued that Keith realized he had come to a halt.

_"Well, I guess I'm still alive,"_ Keith thought, _"because I can say so."_ When he had calmed down a bit more, he started to try to make sense of where he was at that moment.

"Let's see… for starters," he began, "I'm alive-- which is good. Next, I'm lying down on a firm, cold surface, so I'm probably indoors somewhere. Third..."

Keith nearly yelped when he finally realized it.

"Something else is in this room, and its breathing, no sleeping," he finished. He decided it best to gain his bearings on his feet, so he rose to stand, when he came to realize that his eyes were still closed. He slowly opened them, but soon gasped to find out that he still saw only darkness.

"Oh God!" Keith whimpered, "I'm blind! I gotta get outta here before that other thing wakes up! But how… where are the doors? How can I even find them?! How will I ever open up my own restaurant now?!" The pressure in the back of Keith's mind had now completely taken over as fear, and he actually found himself beginning to cry. Suddenly disgusted with his lack of self-control, Keith pulled himself together.

_"That's enough! I already said I'd get here alive, so getting out shouldn't be a problem." _Keith defiantly thought. _"And besides, if whatever in here is sleeping, then maybe the light is just turned out!" _The young man nodded, agreeing with his own logic.

"First things first, I need to try and figure out where this thing is," he whispered. He slowly got up to stand, then froze. He listened for the breathing, which he identified as towards his left. Slowly, Keith took a few steps backwards away from it, bumping his back against what he surmised to be a wall.

"All right!" Keith yipped. _"Now how did that trick work again? Oh yeah, 'Walk with your left hand against a wall, and you'll eventually find a door.'"_

Following his own advice, Keith turned to his right, to keep his left hand against the wall. Then, he shuffled slowly along, until he came to a corner.

_"Almost there," _he thought. "_Now to just make sure to keep quiet, and I should be out in no_--whoa!"

Keith cursed as his right leg caught a huge, heavy bump in the floor. Keith tried desperately to regain his balance, but it was too late, he had tripped on his bag and was falling. Instinctively, Keith put both hands in front of him as fell. He had hoped to catch himself with his hands and was preparing to hit the floor hard. The fall was surprisingly short-lived.

_"At least I didn't land too hard," _Keith thought.

He froze, when he noticed what he landed on was higher than the floor. In addition, it seemed covered with a type of light fabric, like cotton but smoother. Not wanting to dwell on details, Keith pushed up on his palms but could not grip the smooth fabric. He shifted his hands trying to rise at the same time, but his leg was still caught on the bag. Slowly, Keith used his hands again to try to push himself up, this time he reached a little too far and felt something different beneath the fabric. He moved his hand across this new lump. At first, he noticed it was firm, yet with some give as stretched his hand across it, moving slowly in one direction to try to figure out what it was.

Then, the texture of this new material changed drastically. It was suddenly softer, Keith realized, much softer, with a strange, almost jelly-like resistance to its rounded shape.

His mind suddenly broke down. At that moment, Keith swore he could taste his heart as it leapt into his throat...

"Oh, Dear God," was all he could whisper, as he finally put two and two together.

He quickly flashed back all the way to the 7th grade. He and Ian were invited to the Nichols twins' birthday party. Although he could not fully remember everything that happened there, what he immediately recalled was the rousing game of Truth or Dare, when, spurred on by a challenge from Erik Johansen, Keith turned to Crystal Nichols, the same Crystal Nichols from earlier in the story.

And with some unexpected help from Erik, Keith formally "introduced" himself to the grouchy brunette, or at least to her developing breasts. Keith then gulped again as he noted the similarities of the experiences between then and now. Other than the size, he figured everything was just about the same. Well, at least now he determined the gender of the room's inhabitant.

Keith was so busy reminiscing, however, that it took him a few seconds to realize something horrible-- the breathing had stopped. His heart nearly followed suit. Keith slowly reached behind him with a free hand to grab his bag when…

Click!

* * *

... Tuesday 

In less than an instant, the room was flooded with pure, painful white light. Keith quickly shut his eyes, as the sudden luminescence was too bright to take in so quickly after moving around with his eyes open in pitch-black darkness. When his eyes did not sting so much, which took a few seconds, he lifted his head to look around the room. He saw it was well furnished, with abundant clues as to the personality of the owner. There were many pictures, some flowers, and the window was shut, meaning this person obviously valued their sleep.

It was no surprise to Keith that someone lived here... and when the bed shifted, he turned and found out who that someone was.

Again the young man froze. Slowly, he brought his focus back to the bed. He now saw with terrifying clarity that his other hand was indeed firmly cupping a soft, familiar protrusion of the female anatomy. Keith then turned to his left. His bewildered gaze was met first by two strikingly dark gems. The duo of purple orbs was as wide as Keith's own eyes were, huge and unmoving as the mind they belonged to tried making sense of the situation.

In the brief moment that Keith had, he nearly drowned in the impossibly perfect features of Barnette Orangello.

Keith, unlike every other man on board, was not raised on Tarak, so he could really identify with the Mejerran's sense of beauty and truly appreciate it. And even for Earth standards, this round-faced angel was a goddess in Keith's eyes. Her cheekbones were set evenly, giving a sense of symmetry to her face he had not seen on Earth. Barnette's skin was a bit paler than he was used to seeing in most girls (although given the situation, Keith later reasoned some of that to be understandable). However, what held Keith's amazement of this girl the longest was how smooth her skin was. It was as though the air around her had never marred her youth.

Try as he might, Keith could not figure out the age of this girl.

Of course, thanks to three generations of clever genetic engineering amongst already beautiful women, most Mejerrans Barnette's age are all considerably attractive, because they lack all male characteristics that normally would have been passed on from father to daughter. Hence, although Keith did not know it at the time, he was looking at quite possibly the purest example of feminine beauty in the history of humanity.

Keith almost mistook Barnette for a statue, because of the quiet power that her eyes alone forced on him. He was so fixed by Barnette's gaze that her slightly mussed hair only further helped to frame her angelic face-- Keith didn't even notice the most shockingly obvious thing about it: namely being it was _dark green._

However, he had stared too long. In another instant, a ripple of realization flashed across that same face as her gaze turned from bewilderment to anger. Now was Keith's time to react.

_"Caught with my hand in the cookie jar," _Keith thoughtHe mentally chuckled at the analogy, and suddenly remembered that he was still copping a feel off of this girl.

Keith slowly released the semi-solid protrusion from his grasp...

Just then, in a pale, greenish haze of motion, the weight on the bed shifted suddenly as Barnette rolled left to the nightstand where, in an instant, she grabbed a live-ammo Smith and Wesson revolver from the table and quickly whirled around in the Weaver stance. She then shifted her aim left as the intruder, now with a bag slung over his shoulder, was furiously tapping the buttons on her sliding door access keypad, hoping for a reaction.

She decided as she aimed to give him one he was not expecting.

Keith was doing everything he could to get the damn keypad to do something with the door, when he heard a small sliding click. Then the next second, the wall section next to him erupted in a small explosion thanks to the gun's large caliber Magnum rounds.

He froze.

_"What do I do now?" _he thought, as he slowly raised his hands up. He was planning to reassure the girl of his helplessness in words, when Barnette cut him off with the same acidic tone she had perfected over the years.

"Don't move..." she hissed. Keith complied. He gulped in astonishment at the amount of venom that just those two words contained.

_"Damn, that's unbelievable! I guess looks really can be deceiving," _he thought. _"No way am I gonna just stand here like this! I gotta think of a plan." _

Keith thought back to Crystal, and how Ian had cowered before her voice alone. The voice he heard just then was at least 200 times more dangerous; and Keith did not want to think of what she was capable of actually _doing _to him. He had to think of something, and fast. Then he looked at the hole in the wall and examined the tremendous damage the revolver had already demonstrated.

_"If one shot from her could do this to a solid wall…" _he thought.With Keith's back still to Barnette, a small grin lit up his face as a plan quickly came together.

* * *

Barnette, meanwhile, was still trying figure out what to do next. A full 30 seconds had already passed and yet still no one came to investigate the gunshot. 

She looked over at her alarm and found out why. The cutesy, purple box displayed a clear red statement of 3:23 AM. She knew from experience that even the night crew would have been groggy at this hour.

_"But what now?," Barnette_ wondered. She had held people at gunpoint before, but the situation was completely against her to call for aid. The only way of getting help would be to open all communication channels from a call unit _outside_ her room.

_"Wait a minute," _the Dread pilot thought. _"It is just one person, and a male at that…If Hibiki and the others are any indication, then he shouldn't be too much of a problem, even if he tries to put up a fight."_

She then gave the boy a quick once-over evaluation she normally saved for those who annoyed her.

_"Hmm… well, for starters, he's short, easily shorter than I am, so I automatically have a height and leverage advantage on him. Next, his heaving shoulders mean he's tired. Third, he's a male, about Hibiki's build so he must be equal in strength with that weakling. Then, of course, he knows I'm armed, and I know he's not."_

Barnette considered any other characteristics of the boy in an instant. Then, confident of her chances of subduing him, she decided to prove her capabilities without the help of the crew. While he was being "evaluated," Keith had time to go over his plan again. Then, oddly, after a few more seconds passed, he wondered what was taking this girl so long in making her next move.

_"She knows her way around with that thing, so what's she waiting for?" _Keith thought.

Then, previous fight experience gave him an answer.

_"If help was gonna arrive for her, it would have gotten here by now, right? So that can only mean one of three things: _

_1.) She's the only person in this place. _

_2.) If there are others, then they must all still be asleep-- since she was too, and they must not have heard the gunshot. _

_3.) This girl has been sizing me up and thinks she can take me by herself-- so she's decided she doesn't need to call for help."_

Keith relished at the chance of it being option three. It would not be the first time he was judged in such a way. Due to his obvious lack of height, many of Keith's opponents pinned him as a pushover who only talks big, but could not back up his talk to save his life-- which of course made it easier for Keith when the time came to make them pay for their arrogance. If the plan went well, then this girl would end up paying, just like so many others.

Barnette on the other hand, had made up her mind. Stepping off the bed, she moved to within a few feet of her captive.

_"That's it," _thought Keith,_ "just a little bit closer, miss; my arms aren't exactly long, ya know."_

When he was sure she was in his arm's reach, Keith thought it best to determine her height. He could suddenly feel the heat of the gun's last blast on the back of his neck.

_"That's odd, she's close enough, why not aim for the back of the head_?" He figured an answer. "_Oh, I see. She must have pretty average arms then. Let's see, that would place her height around 5' 4" then," _Keith reasoned. _"Just a bit taller than me, but not by much-- all the easier for me, miss."_

Then Keith shook his head grinning at another fact that dawned on him.

_"That still wouldn't explain her boobs, though," _Keith chuckled, remembering then how his hand could not even begin to cover the sheer surface area of Barnette's large breast. He almost laughed, when the girl in question made her presence known to him again.

* * *

3:25 AM Tuesday 

"Don't be stupid enough try anything brave!" Barnette commanded.

Keith remained silent, deciding it best to leave the girl guessing as to whether or not he could even speak. Again, the daggers in Barnette's words astonished him. Even with the gun barrel only inches from his skull, a shiver still shot through his spine due to her voice.

"All right, this is how it's gonna go," she started. "I'm gonna tie your hands; so you're gonna bring them behind you to let me tie them, okay? You make this easy, and maybe you'll live to see another day." With that, the girl looked around for something to bind the young man's hands.

Keith scoffed his disgust at her plan. _"Oh my God, are you serious? That's your plan to restrain me, huh? Damn, miss, you must have made that up just now."_

Darting her head quickly around the room, Barnette saw what she needed around the man's waist. Keith was reading her like a book.

_"Go on," _Keith thought, _"Look around all you want, just please ask for my belt... then again, she couldn't be that predictable, right?"_

Barnette then proved even Keith wrong by commanding him to remove his belt with one hand, while the other still clutched his bag. Keith did as he was told; cursing himself as he just revealed that he too understood English.

_"Oh well, this can still work..." _he thought. Keith held out the belt in his left hand out to his side. It was time for phase two of the escape plan. Barnette grinned at how scared this boy seemed to be. It had been a long time since she had threatened anyone with physical harm, so this was a refreshing experience.

"All right," Barnette began, "Now hand me the belt, drop the bag, and put your hands behind your back!" she ordered. The young man did not even move. Confused, Barnette repeated herself, an uncommon occurrence for the Dread pilot.

"I said, hand me the belt, drop the bag, and put your hands behind your back!" Still there was no response. Barnette gritted her teeth at the idea of losing control and raised the gun to Keith's head, cocking the hammer back sharply. Keith on the other hand was smiling now. He could not believe how easily and quickly he had gotten under her skin.

_"Play dumb for 10 seconds, and she's already this mad? This is too easy… now it's up to her to begin phase 3; that's it miss, you're doing everything according to plan."_

Barnette was suddenly very angry. No one on board the Nirvana, no woman and surprisingly no man had ever upset her this much.

_"Not even Hibiki's big mouth, Meia's impatience, or even Dita's reluctance has ever gotten me this annoyed. But this male, this savage peon has the guts to ignore me? I don't think so." _

Then, she set Keith's plan in motion by laying a forceful hand on his shoulder to try to take the belt by force.

"Perfect," Keith actually said out loud. He no longer cared if she heard, the next few seconds would move too quickly. He then performed one of the most basic turnaround hammerlocks he learned when he was 11.

He ducked down quickly as he dropped the bag from his right hand, grabbed Barnette's left hand off his shoulder, and then sidestepped behind her twisting her left arm against her back with his left hand. Then, in an instant, he sidestepped again to her right side, ducking underneath her gun arm, as he, in one motion, both swept her ankles from beneath her, and flipped her backwards to the ground-- while retrieving the gun from her grasp. It was a simple, textbook maneuver leaving Keith standing in front of the door, while Barnette briefly favored her wrist in a sitting position. Keith grinned at how well the move went.

_"Now to bust outta this room," Keith thought._

He raised the gun to the keypad, when he heard a faint, turning click behind him. He turned around and the instant Keith saw Barnette's right arm raise up a smaller pistol, he shifted his weight to his right, sidestepped against the bed, just feeling the heat of the bullet blaze across his face, actually leaving a burn scar on his left cheek as it went by and into the wall behind him.

He did not have time to notice.

Rolling off the bed towards the door, he pulled the sheet off it, and then flung it at the wide-eyed girl still sitting down, draping it over her. Barnette fired wildly as the sheet closed in around her, charring small holes through it and leaving dark craters on the ceiling. By the time she finally emerged from the sheet, she seethed with rage to see her room empty, and a brightly lit rectangle of light outlining where a closed door was. In its entryway lay her revolver with its cylinder exposed, the remaining rounds scattered closely nearby.

Keith only needed the pistol to shoot the keypad, which he left as a sparking, smoking mess. The boy was gone, leaving Barnette in an eerie stillness...

* * *

1.) another one down... i'll try and get all reformatted chapters back online today. 

2.) well... looking familiar, or have I been gone too long?


	3. the chase

3:30 AM Tuesday

Keith was running through the maze of white doors and walls as he tried to find a place to duck into. He knew that someone had to have heard that gunshot, whatever the hour of night. He was looking down corridors, trying to find a break in the monotony: a sign, a window, even a wall section that looked different. But there were none-- just like the alleyway he and Ian were just running out of, everything looked the same.

"What is this place?" he asked. "It looks some kind of hospital, but that girl seemed a little too healthy to be a patient. Maybe this is like a barracks or something-- at least that would explain how well-armed she was," he reasoned, and then gulped when he considered the possible deadliness of any guards he might run into.

He ducked into an alcove, trying to get his bearings and catch his breath in a spot where he was hopefully out of range of anyone's view.

"All right, I just have to try and figure this place out a bit. All of these rooms must house more people, so this place should be a whole lot bigger than what I've seen so far. Next, at least everyone's still asleep; although that girl could prove to be a problem. What else? I know there's something I'm missing!"

Keith pounded his fist against a wall in frustration, and was about to curse himself for the noise when he realized what it was he was 'missing.'

"This wall," Keith said, "it's pulsing; it isn't still, there's a slight hum to it." He looked around and carefully listened, then placed his hand on the cold floor. "Even the floor's humming. It's just like on that bus, this whole place is moving."

The young man wiped his glasses on his shirt to clear off some smudges, and he continued to think.

"All right, I'm pretty sure this place is too big to be a plane-- and besides, there's no lightness at all on my body. Wherever I am, the gravity is simply too strong."

Keith held up his glasses towards a light on the ceiling to check the clarity of the lenses.

_"So that must mean… I'm on a cruise ship. No way, stop talking like that! No boat could be this big; the hallways just seem too wide. It's more like a hotel… but one that moves? It must be a ship then… but one this big?!"_

Keith sighed as he held his pained head in his hands. "It's no use… trying to make sense of this place has just ended up confusing me even more!" Then, quite suddenly, he heard a faint hissing click and a feedback wail carve its way through the brightly lit hallways.

_"Sounds like the receiver in class before morning announcements are read…oh no." _Keith quickly got up as a feminine voice he recognized tore through the silence in the air.

"Attention, all crewmembers! We have a level 2 security breach in the females' quarters! There is an unidentified male running loose on board; I repeat: there is a _male_ running loose on board! He is armed and dangerous, restrain him on sight," it belted.

Then, a loud, sharp alarm rang through the halls, rendering Keith's cover effectively blown. The agitated announcer had said more, but Keith was concentrated too much on running to care. When he first left Barnette's room, he tiptoed lightly to avoid catching anyone's attention, but now, with what he assumed to be the whole crew after him, Keith was in a full blown sprint. His speed was only hindered by the anger boiling in his throat.

_"Armed, huh?! I left your gun in your gun in your room, damn it! Shit! Now I've gotta rush to find a way outta here. If that girl is any indication as to the rest of the crew, then they are certainly not friendly-- what's more, they'll probably be just as well-armed as her!"_ Keith gritted his teeth as he dashed through the hallways to try and find an exit of some kind.

_"Come on, where is it? If all you are coming in after me, then I should be able to find a way of getting out!"_

He stopped for a brief rest, but then broke away again in an unknown direction when heard footsteps catching up around a corner.

"There he is!" came a girl's voice from behind him. He quickly doubled his pace.

"Ah, hurry! He's going down the 200's hallway! Noli, you come with me. Trina, Cassidy, set up a block down the starboard end after the hall splits. We'll chase him down the port side corridor to the Registry."

"Right away!" and with that, two sleepy crewmembers ran down another hall, leaving one girl still in a playful set of sky-blue pajamas with her superior.

"Should I inform Ms. Gascogne to lay a trap for him?" asked a brunette called Noli. When no response from her superior came, she asked again.

"Ms. Barnette? Should I give Ms. Gascogne a heads-up?" Still no answer came. The green-haired girl was panting heavily and favoring her left wrist-- her face was twisted in a painful scowl; Barnette Orangello was seething inside. Noli thought about pushing her luck with a third attempt at asking the question, but then decided to try another angle.

"Perhaps we should wake the doctor and see to that wrist of yours, Ms. Barnette? I could get someone else to help fence this male in--"

"No need to get more males involved in this!" she hissed. Immediately Barnette was brought out of her trance and she arrogantly shook her wrist.

Then, with her glare plastered down the hall, she started running with Noli, and then suddenly turned to her.

"Noli, meet up with Trina and Cassidy and reinforce that starboard block. This male's a bit more dangerous than the others; leave him to me in the Registry," she said, and then she produced the same revolver Keith had used to escape her room, so as to prove her point to the brunette.

Noli nodded, and then ran down another hall. Barnette waited to make sure Noli left. Of course she was worried about the girl's safety, she knew the young recruit wouldn't stand a chance against this male-- but Noli's safety wasn't Barnette's only reason for sending her subordinate away. When Barnette was sure of her solitude, she checked the action of the revolver one more time by firing it unloaded. Then, she pulled out six rounds from her pocket and loaded every empty chamber of the cylinder before spinning it shut.

"I won't let you beat me again," she angrily whispered. Then she took off running down the hall, revolver gleaming silver for vengeance in her right hand.Meanwhile, down the hall, Keith cursed out loud as he ran.

"Starboard, port… damn, this _is_ a ship! Okay, so those girls said they'd lay a trap for me at both ends of a hall when its splits. If I turn portside, I'll run into a trap set in the Register, whatever the hell that is. And I doubt that there'll only be two girls waiting for me if I head starboard," Keith reasoned.

It was then Keith realized something that struck him so hard, he actually stopped running to ponder it further.

_"Wait a minute…'only two _**girls** _waiting for me starboard…a level 2 security breach in the _**females**' quarters_?' And why do I have to be an unidentified _**male** _for them to have to restrain me on sight? Something's going on here, and I don't think they're chasing me just because I breached security." _

Keith wanted to consider the plethora of questions he had just devised, when his train of thought was broken again by footsteps approaching.

"Shit! Shouldn't have stopped!" he cursed, and then broke off running again.Finally, after an eternity of running down one hall, he found a crossroads, just like the Barnette said; the corridor he was taking suddenly divided left or right.

"Well, I wish I knew what port and starboard was," Keith said, debating which path to take. "No time to think, just choose a way." And with that, he turned to his left and ran as fast he could. Much to his disadvantage, he was heading into a trap laid for him in the Registry department...

* * *

3:42 AM Tuesday

Keith dashed down the hall, duffel bag bouncing up and down on his back, when, much to his surprise, the alarm suddenly shut off. Keith stopped, but after a few seconds' hesitation, he started running again.

_"They must have cleared enough halls to no longer consider it a general alarm. That means they're closing in; it would probably be wise to start looking for another place to hide," _Keith thought.

When he reached a darkened portion of the hallway, he tried several doors to see if any would admit him in. The keypads on many of them indicated "locked," so he darted back and forth across the corridor, checking doors left and right for any unlocked ones. Over and over again, he found he was unlucky. Finally, he came to a rounded door and he was grateful to find the keypad read "Unlocked."

Before he hit the switch for the door to open, though, he suddenly took a real good look at where he was: he was at the end of the hallway. Keith took his hand off the keypad and thought for a moment.

"So, here I am, at the end of a hall, and I still haven't run into any girls." He looked at the door again. "This must be the door to the Registry, then." Keith darted his head to any other possible ways to go. When he surmised that his only two choices were to turn back or enter, he bit his lip in regret.

"Damn! No matter where I go, I'm screwed now! No wonder they shut off the alarm: they knew that this hallway leads only to Registry… they were driving me down the hall to this place intentionally; I was trapped the moment I went this direction."

Keith sighed deeply at his stupidity. How he could have let himself get fenced in, he didn't know. It was a lesson he should have picked up by now: never fight your enemy's fight. Now he was stuck and had nowhere to go.

"Well, I should at least be a good sport, then, huh?" he joked. "Fine… if this is it, really it, then just like last time, I won't go down without a fight," Keith finished, as he clenched his fists tightly in rebellious frustration.

"…_not without a fight, ever…"_

Then, Keith's thoughts turned to his missing friend. It was only now he realized he had not run into Ian since the alleyway, and Keith very realistically considered the possibility that Ian had not survived the encounter. This was the thought that finally killed his confidence.

For a moment, he thought of actually letting himself get caught peacefully. Fighting wouldn't help him, now that he was trapped. All he could think to do now was to follow the plan of his captors.

"So be it," Keith said.

And with that, he stood, walked to the keypad, and then pushed the "open" button. The door slid across, and Keith was blinded by powerful white light. He stood tall though, with a free arm shielding his eyes. Apart from his the top of his forearm, Keith couldn't see anything else. Then, as his vision grew accustomed to the room's brightness, he could see he was in a sort of meeting room. It was a large room, with high ceilings, and two rows of tables and chairs were in the center of it. As his eyes moved across the room, he could see an empty opening towards the back, possibly leading to a larger room.

But his visual examination of the Registry was cut short when he looked directly in front of him: a tightly grouped line of girls surprisingly around his age, were all dressed in sleepwear, yet brandished fierce-looking guns in his direction. Keith chuckled at this strangely arousing contrast, but raised his hands nonetheless.

He stood for a moment longer, then an older woman's voice spoke.

"All right, pal, that's far enough... now just drop the bag, get down on your knees, and keep your hands in the air," said Gascogne Rheingau.

Keith did as he was told by the muscular woman. Her commanding voice and imposing physical build told him this was a woman who was in charge of something, so he'd best follow orders. Suddenly he realized how familiar a situation this was...

"Now just stay where you are," Gascogne ordered.

She then leaned over to one of the girls and told her to grab the duffel bag, while she gave another girl a pair of cuffs like the ones used on the other males at the beginning of their journey home. Gascogne was still a bit sleepy from being woken up to deal with such a new development, but after hearing the report from Barnette, and after taking a look at the boy herself, she could see Keith was very much a threat.

Keith was still kneeling with his hands up, trying to calm his breathing down. He saw one of the girls, a blonde, come running up to take the bag and another girl with what looked like a pair of hand restraints to come and tie him up. Keith felt he needed more time to think up a better plan, but he seemed to only have this one chance. Therefore, as the girl with the cuffs came to restrain him, Keith was already shifting his weight to his toes when both of them stopped in their tracks. For a moment, even Keith was confused, until he heard footsteps behind him.

He was about to turn around when he suddenly heard a voice he had grown to know rather well.

* * *

3:46 AM Tuesday

"It's okay girls… this one's mine," Barnette stated.

She had Keith in a dead center shot with her revolver and walked up behind him as she motioned for them to toss her the cuffs. She was grinning evilly wide at the idea of taking this male down herself. Vengeance was sweet, she had to admit that. When the two left, she moved in closer. Keith could barely contain his happiness. Now the situation had gotten a _great deal more _familiar.

_"So, she finally caught up with me, huh? What was it that one other girl called her, 'Barnette?' Well, Barnette… if you want to get even, that's fine. But, you won't get very far if you keep trying these same tactics,"_ Keith thought, grinning.

He couldn't believe she was going to try this again.

_"Is she really that desperate for revenge? Poor girl, now she has to pay the price again."_

As the girl in the purple pajamas neared the boy on his knees, Gascogne carefully broke down the scenario.

_"What are you up to, Barnette?"_ Gascogne wondered. _"Why is it that you wanna take this male down so badly?"_

She then shifted her vision to the young man kneeling.

_"There's something about this male, something that makes him different from the others,"_ she thought.

Then she saw Keith's mouth break into a sly grin. Gascogne nearly choked when she realized what was about to happen to Barnette, without the purple-eyed girl even knowing he was going to do it. She was within arm's reach of Keith when Gascogne yelled her warning.

"Hey! Careful Barnette, not too close! He could try something--" Gascogne began. Barnette stopped from her smiling approach when she came to realize she had tried this before. She raised her gun again, but it was too late.

Keith arose to the left from his kneeling position, sweeping Barnette's left ankle which caused her to fall forward. Then, he applied quick pressure to her wrist, causing Barnette to release the gun, which he grabbed with his left hand as he sidestepped behind her, all while she continued to fall forward. He then quickly trained the gun on Barnette, who was now finished with her fall, and instinctually turned to face the young man while on all fours before him. Another smoothly executed maneuver.

"Stand up, Barnette," he ordered her. "The sweep only stuns your ankle, now stand up and turn your back to me!"

Realizing her gun was gone, the girl did as the male told her-- hate it though she did. Now on her feet with her back to Keith, Barnette cursed herself as she recognized the advantage she had him in twice was now reversed again, and she knew he would not go making the same mistake a third time.

She was right. In fact, Keith had taken two full steps backward from her, just to be safe. As Barnette got to her feet, he shifted his focus to the line of girls in front of him. They were all shocked wide-eyed, like they had just watched a woman take a bite out of her own newborn baby. In another moment, though, they had taken aim on him again-- although with Barnette in the way, he knew they wouldn't risk it. He felt this could be a good way of escaping.

Suddenly his eyes locked on with Gascogne's.

_"Somehow she knew I was going to make a move," _Keith thought. Not wanting to stay long enough to let Gascogne take her own chance, Keith thought it best to make his exit…but not without getting his bag, first. When he saw it was near Barnette, Keith smiled internally at the idea of returning the favor.

"Kick the bag behind you, Barnette… now, goddammit! What the hell are you waiting for? Are you deaf, sweetheart?!" Keith raged as loudly as he could.

Shocked by his sudden burst of anger, Barnette quietly obeyed. She couldn't believe it! A man dared call her by her name, and then raised his voice to her? And now she was actually scared enough to obey him? She blushed furiously as she followed his order, darting her eyes back and forth from the ground to the other girls standing nearby. What would they think of her now? After all she'd said before...

However, the yell's effect was meant only to be a deterrent. And Keith knew it had worked.

This was the voice Keith saved for the restaurant, when one of his helpers went belligerent, or were just plain annoying. There was no real anger behind it, yelling was just a skill he picked up to get people to respond to him more easily-- a fact Gascogne noted as she examined the scene. Now her interest in this boy's story was truly piqued. She tried to consider where and how he could have learned to suddenly use so commanding a tone.

_"What was he in charge of, I wonder?"_ Gascogne thought.

Her questions, though, were put to rest when she saw Keith backing out of the room; he was trying to escape. Keith slung his bag over his shoulder and kept the gun trained on the green-haired girl in front of him. In his mind, it was time to get out of there. Slowly, he backed away, making sure she stayed directly in front of him by at least three feet; essentially, he was using her as a moving shield.

It was a disgusting tactic, this he knew, and he would definitely have to apologize, but there was no time to be nice. He just hoped the door was thicker than the one for Barnette's room. Step by cautious step he inched his way back to the huge doors he had walked in through. Then when Keith was directly behind the doorway, Gascogne decided to speak, signaling with a free hand for the other girls to take careful aim.

"We could shoot you right here, ya know; it would all be over in a matter of seconds," Gascogne mused. She was hoping to faze the boy, yet she saw no change in his eyes. He was as stubborn as Hibiki, and worse for her, more cautious… smarter. Then Keith scanned his eyes across the room, taking stock of how the situation had made the firing squad very nerous. At length, he breathed deep and spoke.

"I don't think so, ma'am: if you were gonna take me out, you would have done it long before I had this gun in my hands," he began. "Besides, the two girls you sent to grab my bag were also coming with a pair of hand restraints: you had no intention of killing me, and even if you would fire now, this young lady happens to be in the way-- and you and I both know that at this range you can't risk the shaky aim of a bunch of sleepy teenage girls."

He smiled and bowed his head to all of them. _"Time to be smooth," _he thought. "My apologies, ladies; I'm sure all of you are excellent shots. By the way, I also apologize for waking or alarming any of you, but I simply refuse to be caught this way."

And with that, he laid a hand on Barnette's shoulder (much to her disgust) and whispered softly to her (much to an emotion she could not understand).

"You most of all, Barnette… listen, I'm sorry for whatever harm I've caused you or your pride this night. I must have done more damage than a few bruises could ever explain, and for that I truly apologize. I don't know if you can ever forgive me, but I hope you can at least understand."

Keith said this with utmost sincerity. It was really one bad coincidence after another with this girl. Barnette was speechlessly taken aback at the sincerity in his voice, but at length she spoke back-- if only to save face in front of the other girls.

"You want me to understand? I want you to _understand_ that when we catch you, I'll personally pay you back myself," she managed to say. Barnette really was upset, but Keith's apology did have a softening effect on her anger, which he noticed. Satisfied with her answer Keith grinned, knowing he had broken through to something other than this girl's hostility. Then he leaned in close to and breathed his good-bye in her left ear. Barnette was shocked: she usually didn't even let Jura get this close.

"I look forward to it-- but in the meantime, let me help you duck," he whispered. And with that, he jumped onto and off of her back like a trampoline-- causing her to fall forward, then he shot out the keypad as he flew backward behind the doorway, and rolled left towards the door, staying behind it as the girls opened fire on him. Keith was relieved when the rounds didn't go through. He emptied the gun, checked his pockets, and then shot down the corridor running.

Inside the Registry, Gascogne was enraged.

"Who told you to fire?! Did anyone hear me say 'fire?'" she was screaming at the girls, who, in turn were shrinking away from her tirade. Some were brave enough to suggest chasing after the boy, to which she pulled rank as to who was giving the orders around here.

Barnette was sitting up wide-eyed. She couldn't believe what had happened to her just now. Had the same man who wounded and embarrassed her twice actually apologized, then saved her life? She was still shivering from the sudden warmth of his hand on her shoulder and dreamy-eyed at the sincerity and closeness of his apology.

_"I'm still mad at him, though, right? Should I stay mad? Of course! This was a man after all, our mortal enemy. But would my mortal enemy save me from a death by my own people?" _she questioned.

Then Barnette realized the fact that indeed the girls had fired at _him_, but with _her_ still in the way. Angered by this revelation, she too joined Gascogne in yelling at the girls for endangering her. They defended themselves by saying the bullets were non-lethal, but this did not serve to quell her rage.

Out in the hallway, Keith went back to sneaking.

With the alarm off-line and everyone believing their Registry trap had worked, it was better now to trust in stealth. Especially since he knew he would be reaching the other end of the hallway, where the block was still possibly set up, although he doubted anyone would bother to keep watch. Still, Keith figured it was best to move with caution. He crept with some speed as well, knowing that it wouldn't take long for the girls to break out and probably send another full-scale search for him again. He decided he had to find a safe place to hide. As he made his way across the hall, he also noticed the first surveillance cameras he had seen all night.

_"I must be getting somewhere important. Maybe I should've gone this way before and saved myself a whole lot of grief and apologies back there," _he thought, slipping underneath a camera's view.

As he made his way to the end of the hall, he noticed that it was indeed free of anyone standing guard, but that another set of cameras were mockingly keeping vigil over the whole area. Keith was ready to turn back when he noticed a break in the hall, where it led into another corridor.

* * *

3:52 AM Tuesday

He timed the cameras' motion, and then dashed around the corner to an adjoining hall when it was turned away. He was about to make a mad rush down this new hall when he stopped at the sound of lively chatter. As he hid behind the corner, his heart sank when he saw another open doorway that was brightly lit and clearly had some life inside. From the conversations he could make out, Keith determined this room to be a large dining hall. The girls inside were laughing, gossiping, chatting up storms, and the familiar clanging of silverware on plates was the final confirmation he needed. Keith looked past the door's opening to see two girls enter some sort of elevator.

_"There! A way out of here! If I could just reach the elevator without being seen from the dining room,"_ Keith despaired.

There really was no other choice now. If he couldn't get in the elevator, all he could do was turn back and confront either the cameras or the party he was sure would be just leaving the Registry. Whatever the choice he made, it had to be done now. Time was running out, and he knew if another alarm was sounded, everyone in that dining room would pour out into the hallway and immediately mark him.

For the first time all night, Keith was absolutely convinced he was out of favorable options.

_"That's it! I'm tired of playing their game. Enough running away… it's my turn to take some initiative, here,"_ Keith thought. And with that, he mustered up all of his courage, took a deep breath, and ran as fast he could to get across that doorway. He bounded the distance with huge strides, hardly breathing as he neared the door. The young man was so close, so close now to fulfilling his goal.

No one had come out yet. If he could just slip by unnoticed...

Then, to Keith's horror, something emerged from the door as he was about five feet away from its opening. Instinctively, Keith quickly broke his run as he saw a set of orange pajamas break the light of the doorway.

_"Turn back," _his mind screamed to him, _"turn back and run before you're seen!" _

But it was too late. By the time he had dug his heels to finally stop running, he was standing in the hallway frozen, his dark eyes locked with the deep blue sapphires of the girl who had spotted him. She was about his height, of medium build, with the longest red hair he had ever seen. It twisted wildly back and forth like a grape vine behind her as it fell just above her ankles and framed her face with two long braids. She clutched a small cloth doll in both hands.

_"She must not have been able to go back to sleep after the first alarm,"_ he thought.

Keith was immediately glued in place. For the second instant in one evening, Keith was frozen by the superior female breeding of Mejerr. This girl was just as stunning as Barnette, with a smaller, rounder figure. Her over-sized pajamas, pink nail polish and cloth doll were clear indications that she was younger than the girl with purple eyes. Despite the difference in age, however, he stared just as disbelievingly at the undeniable attractiveness of the girl before him.

Because he wasn't expecting to be seen, Keith couldn't will himself to move as he watched the expression on this girl's face change from one of shock to curiosity as she turned to face him. Then, when her eyes blinked with realization, and her face lit up in the most terrifyingly happy smile he had ever seen, Keith came back to his senses as he realized he had stood too long to stare again.

He then turned to run when she energetically started jumping up and down in the air, yipping loudly at the top of her lungs.

"Yay, I don't believe it! One more alien! This must be my lucky day!" and with that, the red-head called Dita Liebely sped off after the terrified boy in a red shirt.

Keith was rounding the corner back to the same corridor that lead to the Registry, ignoring the cameras. He didn't care anymore if he was seen; his cover was blown once again. Keith kept the same pace when he first ran from the trap, thinking he was well ahead when, behind him he heard the same girl call out, trying between labored breaths to get her unusual message across.

"Wait... Mr. Other Alien, don't run... I just want to... get to know you... better! Please... slow down!" she begged.

Keith couldn't believe what he was hearing. Part of him actually wanted to halt and find out exactly what she meant by 'Mr. Other Alien,' but his legs wouldn't let him stop. He just kept running as fast as he could carry himself. It didn't really matter where, because for some reason, this girl was now sending him a vibe down to his bones that he should just run. He had never felt such a primitive type of fear in his life, not even in any of his previous fights.

It was like instinct. Keith was really, truly terrified of being caught by this girl.

It didn't really do him much good, then, to look back and see to his horror that she was catching up to him, arms outstretched before her, and loudly yelling more absurdities in his direction at the top of her lungs.

"Mr. Other Alien... Please slow down! I can't run that fast... Aren't you getting hungry yet? If you stop, I promise I'll fix you...something to eat!" she bribed.

Dita knew from experience that another alien she knew of was also really good at running, but that even the slightest mention of food would suddenly trigger Hibiki's legs to break down beneath him. But this other alien was weird; her very mentioning of food only seemed to propel him faster. In Dita's logic, she figured this to be a sign that he really must be hungry, then.

_"Oh, that poor other Alien, he must have been eating those nasty pills like Mr. Alien has. I must help in him the same way!" _she thought, smiling.

With her efforts now galvanized by a clear mission, Dita suddenly picked up speed, determinately closing the gap between her and the young man.

Keith, on the other hand, was losing steam. This was the third time in one night he had run with such intensity. As he started to lose the pace of his breathing, he became lightheaded with the world around him faded in and out of blurriness. Keith shook his head wildly, but as he continued to push himself, he could feel his body screaming that it had had enough. His legs started to buckle as each stride made them turn to rubber on the floor-- Keith was slowing down and he knew it, but still he pushed on.

He had come so far, so close to escaping.

_"Not here," _he pleaded, _"not just yet… if I can go a little bit further, I know I can make it! I've never been taken down while I was giving my best-- and I know for a fact that this isn't it, I just can't be stopped here!"_

Much to his own surprise, Keith's head started to clear as his strides landed stronger, more controlled than before. He even felt himself picking up speed again. This was the confidence booster he had needed. If he could just keep this up until the girl gave in, he knew he could make it.

It was just a little bit further.

"That's it," Keith huffed. "Just don't look back; it doesn't matter how close she is… as long as you're ahead, you can always run a little bit further. Besides, she'll have to give up soon right? How long can she keep up? It's not like she's any different from anyone else. I just can't... look... ba-ACK!"

Keith was about to finish his sentence, when, out of nowhere, two strong arms intertwined around his neck which not only choked him but also caused him to lose his footing mid-stride. Basically, Keith was already in the process of falling forward, but to make it worse, Dita, now with a firm grip, jumped onto his back, throwing forward all of her weight against his spine.

Then, in piggy-back fashion, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled her smiling face in close against his back as Keith continued to tumble face-first to the floor-- now with an extra person helping gravity along. The worst part is, he saw the floor come up to meet him, and he flinched violently at the pain he knew was coming his way. Out of instinct, Keith flung off his glasses to save his eyes.

* * *

CRASH!

Keith Greers was laying face-first on a hard floor with another person basically welded onto his back. As he slowly stretched out his arms to lift himself up, he noticed the first of his injuries: his ribs stung badly. Looking ahead of him, he saw his glasses, still in one piece, and managed a weak smile at saving something.

He was sprawled out wide, his legs lying flat against the floor, but he noticed they were still free, so he tried to bend his knees to rise, but couldn't. This girl was simply too heavy. And the longer she clung to him, the more of his own strength he was losing. Plus, when he got up to move, which was at least five attempts, Dita would simply squeeze him tight until he lay down, winded. Every time he tried to rise he could hear her giggle as she whispered to him, burying her face deeper in Keith's back as though he were a giant teddy bear.

"No you don't. I'm not letting you get away," she teased.

Strangely enough, Keith chuckled, because he and his sister would sometimes play this game whenever she wanted the T.V. remote. Dita, of course, was no 3-year old toddler and Keith noted the painfully obvious differences between the two.

At last, the young man gave in; it was useless. Once again, he succumbed to his body as sleep beckoned him. Slowly, Keith let his body win as he let out a defeated sigh and blacked out just when he started hearing footsteps approach...

* * *

1.) whew. another one down. relax, more are comin'

2.) notice anything different? keep your eyes open...


	4. the healing

9:37 AM Tuesday

Inside the brightly lit infirmary on board the Nirvana, a tall man in a floor-length white coat was making his rounds. Slowly, he got up out of the chair he was writing in over to an occupied bed. There, he pulled up a data-slate, which contained the vital information of the patient in the bed. He sighed uneasily at the numerous blank spaces present on it. Glancing back at the patient, he had to wonder exactly who this young man was. He thought back earlier that day...

**Flashback**

**When he was called in around 4:00 AM, all he was told was to set up the infirmary and prepare for a patient. **

**He took a few guesses at what that could have meant:**

**_"It could be a severe injury inflicted on one of the night crew. Perhaps Meia had pushed herself too far in her early morning simulator trials. Maybe the Captain had suffered another heart attack. Or...maybe something happened to Parfet- - she liked to stay up late sometimes and do regular systems checks across the ship...No, it couldn't be." _He shook his head.**

**Although all were good guesses, he also thought it had something to do with that alarm in the dead of night--about a new male intruder. Regardless of the case, however, Duelo McFile was well aware of his duty as the only doctor on board the Nirvana. So despite the hour, and without Paiway's assistance, he set up shop in the sick bay, like he did everyday. But even the calculating mind of this long-haired him doctor couldn't prepare for the sight that was carried in.**

**Gascogne's voice was the first he heard approach down the hall, so immediately he readied himself to handle a possible injury to one of her stagehands. But when the doors flew open, in came two girls, still dressed in pajamas, and each held onto a leg, while Gascogne herself was closely behind, holding something at her waist. Duelo couldn't see what it was at first, but nearly gasped when he walked up. **

**It was a male…a young boy, about his age. **

**He had shoulder-length black hair and a tanned hue to his skin. The doctor noticed how strangely the boy was dressed. The pants he wore were a strange, faded blue color, made of a material he couldn't identify. His reddish shoes were also strange-looking and well-worn. His shirt had sleeves cut just above his elbows and was also plain red, but darker in some spots...**

**Then, recognizing what those spots were, Duelo became a doctor again.**

**"Get him on the observation table!" he ordered. Gascogne nodded. **

**"All right girls, nice and easy now." As they struggled to lug him across the room, the other two girls holding the young man's legs complained a bit. **

**"Jeez, this male weighs a ton! Must be a real tubby, eh, Jenna?" joked one of the girls. The other girl would have laughed, but her grip on the leg was failing, so she decided to let the joke slip until she finally heaved him onto the table with a big sigh. **

**He was heavy all right, but Gascogne knew better. She had been holding up the boy's upper body on the way to the infirmary, and the hard rippling she felt beneath his shirt told of anything but body fat. This was the best conditioned male other than the doctor she had ever seen. A fact that only made her nervousness grow about this boy as she recalled the daring escape he pulled off in the Registry, and how it could have only been possible because of his build. Gascogne was just as curious about this boy as the doctor, especially in terms of where he came from. **

**Once the young man was on the table, Duelo began his preliminary examination. Amazingly, he was checking vital signs, making notes, and consulting the witnesses all at the same time. Gascogne dismissed the two other girls as the doctor began asking questions.**

**"What exactly happened?" he asked, while checking the young man's wrist for a pulse.**

**Gascogne responded, "Barnette says this kid broke into her room, held _her_ at gunpoint, then escaped; while he was wandering around the halls somewhere, probably looking for a place to hide, Barnette sent out an all comm. channels alert to watch out for him… then they woke me up, told me to gather some stagehands at the Registry, and said something about laying a trap for him."**

**Duelo looked over the boy, and then asked, "I take it the trap was a success, then?" Gascogne pondered awhile then responded. **

**"Actually, this kid managed to pull off an escape. Get this: before he made his exit, he bowed low, apologized for waking us ladies, then saved Barnette's life in the process of us firing at him," she looked up intently for his reaction. Duelo looked up and asked her quickly.**

**"He apologized for waking you… then he saves Barnette's life? Why did you shoot at him, did he threaten any of you at all?" **

**Gascogne sighed. "No, that's what surprises me; there wasn't a hint of hostility in his actions or his apology… itt's almost as if--"**

**"He isn't like the others?" finished an old voice from the entrance to the infirmary. It seems the Captain was also awakened a bit early as well. **

**She was greeted warmly by the doctor and Gascogne as she walked in with the immovable Buzam A. Calessa close behind--both, like everyone else awake, were still in their sleepwear. She finished her statement by asking it again. **

**"Is that what you were thinking, Gascogne?" **

**Gascogne nodded. "I don't know what it is about him, but this boy is different from the other males; the entire time he spoke to us, there was a different tone he seemed to use, like he felt he had to talk to us differently-- at least differently than any other male ever has," the tall woman answered.**

**B.C. spoke as well, "Where do you think he might come from, then, if he isn't from Tarak, do you think he came here to escape our enemy?"**

**Gascogne shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I checked his bag, and it does look like he was prepared to leave somewhere; it was full of spare clothing, some toiletries, a camera-- but that's not what's most alarming: there's something else I found in his bag and in one of his pockets that tell me this kid could mean trouble."**

**Magno raised her head from the boy, who was now shirtless, as Duelo established an I.V. line to one of his bleeding arms.**

**"Well, what was it?" the old woman asked.**

**"Knives, Boss," Gascogne began. "I found at least 10 or so different knives of different lengths in his bag, with quite a nasty-looking one in his front pocket."**

**At length, B.C. spoke. "What, for self-defense, maybe?"**

**Magno glared at the boy. "Maybe… but if so, then what would a boy need with so many of them? I think it was right of you to worry Gascogne; this boy could mean trouble… did you make sure no one else saw these knives?"**

**Gascogne nodded in the affirmative. She was no fool to the gossip that quickly spread amongst a crew of women. The bag was now underneath the boy's bed, sealed up just the way they found it; knives and all, even.**

**"Good," Magno continued. "It is in everyone's interest that the crew not sees this boy in a negative light. He does seem to be a mystery, but I don't think he was sent here to harm any of us; after all, if he did apologize to the girls and save Barnette then maybe, just maybe, he comes from a society where men and women actually coexist."**

**Gascogne stared at the old woman-- she hadn't thought of that. Magno nodded back.  
**

**"Precisely; and if that is true, there should be no cause for concern. His actions thus far only prove that he is a boy who respects women enough to apologize for inconveniencing them... I'm sure he has a very interesting story to tell." She shifted her attention to Duelo, who was busy making more notes.**

**"What do you think, doctor?" she started. "When will he be healthy enough to sit down and have a talk with us?"**

**At this, Duelo looked up from his notes, and answered at length.**

**"Well, unfortunately, it would seem that this patient won't be talking to anyone anytime soon." **

**"What do you mean, Duelo," the Captain asked, "are his injuries that serious?" He paused awhile, then expounded, pulling up his observations on the boy from a data-slate.**

**"It isn't necessarily the injuries that are a problem, although they are, in themselves quite serious: apart from mild external bruising along his back, he also has a few broken ribs, sprained wrists, and his left shoulder is dislocated. Also, there appear to be lacerations on his forearms. I wonder... was he injured this badly when the trap was sprung?" they turned to Gascogne.  
**

**"No," she responded. "He couldn't have pulled off the escape if he was injured as badly as you say." **

**Duelo nodded, cupping his chin in his hand. "Then, that means that most of these injuries were caused some time between when he escaped, and when you brought him in." **

**Gascogne's eyes went wide with realization. "Dita! When we found him, Dita was lying on his back, sound asleep. He was face down and unconscious, and there was some blood on the floor when we picked him up."**

**B.C. was in shock. "Are you sure? Our Dita, inflict that kind of damage? She wouldn't even hurt a fly!"**

**Duelo spoke out of experience. "If these injuries are a result of an encounter with her, then more likely than not, Dita wasn't intending on hurting him. She could have seen him in the hallway, chased him, then probably jumped on him while he was running, and this must have cause him to slide on the ground, and that could have scraped his arms. After all, she has been known to pounce on a certain Vanguard pilot we all know."**

**Magno nodded. "It would make sense for Dita to chase down something new aboard the ship with such enthusiasm; I just never realized she was so strong." With that, Magno turned her eyes to the boy again, shook her head and continued to query the doctor.**

**"You said that the injuries themselves weren't the problem, that there was something else more serious?" she asked. Duelo checked his notes again. **

**"Although it would seem that the injuries this boy sustained from his encounter with Dita are critical, the problem at hand now is how his body is dealing with them." He directed their attentions to the ECG, which monitored the boy's heartbeat. **

**"His heart?" B.C. asked. Duelo nodded. **

**"His heartbeat is very irregular… it seems that all of the running and panicking he did all night to try and evade our crew, which he viewed as hostile, severely affected his heart. If we can get him to calm down enough to get his heartbeat to a normal level, then he should recover; but that means no visitations, no disturbances, and unfortunately Captain, no opportunity to talk just yet. This young man needs his rest. His heartbeat is already beginning to stabilize, but if it isn't regulated, he could go degrade as far as cardiac arrest."**

**Duelo pressed a few switches to adjust Keith's oxygen intake before continuing with his diagnosis.**

"**Furthermore, we also need to take into consideration the element of what is not known to us: all we can say for sure is that this young male is human, but beyond that we quite literally know nothing about him, much less his medical history-- what this means is that my hands are tied in terms of medical treatment-- apart from rest and regular needs assistance, I cannot, and will not, risk endangering his health through theory or experimentation."**

**Magno took all of this in carefully. Then she nodded, and replied calmly.**

**"Very well, Doctor, I place his recovery in your hands; I would hate for this boy to have to suffer so much because of us… keep me informed of his progress, and be sure to alert me the instant he awakens." **

**"It would probably be best to keep Barnette away from him; she's probably struggling with the new idea of being saved by a male," Gascogne added, grinning.**

**B.C. added, "Just as well with Dita then; knowing her, she probably wants to try and get to know this young man better, or even apologize if she finds out he's hurt, which would probably end up making his condition worse." **

**"I'll try and keep them both busy while he heals; good luck to you, Duelo," finished the Captain.**

**"Thank you, Captain." Duelo bowed his head slightly.With that, the two other women started to leave. Then the captain turned, smiling, and asked,**

**"By the way Doctor, do we happen to know the name of our new guest? I would like to greet him properly when he awakens."**

**Gascogne answered for Duelo. "I checked his bag, but the identification tag only listed his first name... It's Keith."**

**Magno squinted, "Keith... sounds rather old-fashioned, doesn't it?"**

**Flashback fades

* * *

**

Duelo checked the boy's instruments yet again. Nearly 10:00 and Paiway was late. Other than one big difference, everything was business as usual in the infirmary.

10:45 AM Tuesday

Elsewhere on the ship, news of this new male's exploits buzzed about as weary-eyed girls told largely fictional accounts of the morning's escapades. The captain and the rest of the senior staff were trying their best to keep their young crew's minds occupied by overloading their work schedules. Even still, most girls could see this boost in labor for what it was: a diversionary tactic. Many, of course, were not happy about being lied to.

"What's with all this extra work we gotta do?" complained one.

"Yeah, we took care of this task three days ago, Parfet!" hissed an engineer.

"What? Gascogne said we have to restock all of it?" cried a stagehand.

Every department was the same. Complaints sprang up all across the ship, many even chorused in groups of twenty or more to the captain herself. Magno, on the other hand, knew the level of her crew's intelligence. She simply dismissed each complaint, and took everyone's comments with a grain of salt. Then, when the department heads themselves started coming forward with reports that even the newly expanded work details were getting finished, Magno decided to just tell her crew the truth.

"Ezra," she began, taking a seat in her chair. "Open a channel to all departments across the ship: it's time all of you found out what's going on."

"Right away Captain," replied the pregnant bridge bunny. A few seconds later, the channel was open, and the Captain could see every department on the main screen of the bridge. She cleared her throat, and then spoke.

"Attention all crew! I have some news to inform you of… all of you." Once she paused, everyone paid attention to the live feed, drawing their attentions to the woman they called Captain. When she was sure all of her crew was listening, she resumed her announcement.

"As many of you might be aware, we now have a new passenger onboard the Nirvana," Magno started, "Yes, it is true… this visitor is in fact a male."

At this, many of the crew complained. Barnette tried to join them, but only found herself feeling half-hearted about the sentiment. Meia looked up from her Dread's status screen to listen. Jura was smiling slyly to herself. And Dita turned away from her stir-fry for Hibiki. Magno waited for them to quiet down, and then continued.

"Now, I am well aware of the opinions that many of you may harbor against males; it is the way you were raised, and that is just the truth of the matter." Many girls cheered. Others said for it to remain "that way." A few, however, remained silent.

"But what is also the truth is that, for the past few weeks, we have proven that males and females can not only coexist, but can cooperate." None of the girls spoke. They knew this was true. Bart on the other hand, was grinning his buck-naked ass off inside the cockpit. Even Duelo looked up from his notes. Hibiki paused from maintaining his Vanguard, but only because his nose itched-- he wasn't joining in everyone's break to listen.

Magno continued.

"And since we know little about this male, it is of utmost importance that all of us put our best efforts forward to work efficiently, so that we can get home faster. He was seriously injured last night, while trying to escape capture. Not because he did anything wrong, but simply because he was afraid of being held prisoner. Therefore, we mustn't let our prejudices drive us. If anything these past few weeks have taught us is of any value, then that is the fact that we should at least be willing to give something new a chance...thank you for all of your outstanding efforts in this difficult time. Keep up the good work."

And with that, the captain's face faded from the screens, and the crew went about their daily tasks. Magno leaned back on her chair, her fingers pressed against her forehead. B.C. was nearby, of course, so she spoke her mind.

"You know B.C., everyday I wonder what holds this crew together so well," she started.

B.C. smiled. "It's your leadership, Captain; these girls would follow you anywhere-- now, as for the men,"

Magno interrupted, smiling. "I wouldn't worry about the men, just yet." Then the old woman took a moment to admire her crew, and joined in the rat-race.

And with that, the Nirvana went about its business. Tasks were assigned and performed with quickness and efficiency. Crewmembers buzzed about on all levels in a happy, energetic pace. Parfet lead her team in highly synchronized tasks completed in almost perfect unison. Duelo balanced managing his patients and putting up with Paiway's unusual mannerisms, puppet-related or not. Bart whistled a happy tune as he looked out and saw a clear, smooth stretch of space ahead.

And, in a hallway somewhere, a certain red-head with a covered tray happily bounced her way towards the hangar, and an unsuspecting Vanguard pilot tinkering away within.

* * *

11:34 AM Saturday 

Duelo was looking over Keith's data yet again, trying to figure out what he had overlooked.

He had thought it fortunate that many of Keith's injuries were healing faster than expected. Not only had his shoulder finally realigned, but most of the bruises had reduced by half, his cuts no longer required as much antiseptic, and his ribs were mending quickly. Moreover, as he had reported to the Captain two nights ago, Keith's heartbeat had finally stabilized to a normal rate.

So why hadn't he come out of unconsciousness yet?

All of the readings Duelo looked over suggested that amazingly, Keith should have gained back enough physical strength to actually stand up and walk around. So why was he still sleeping? Duelo couldn't figure it out. And now his burden of privacy was becoming difficult, as some of the others were starting to grow curious. It took on a new sense of desperation when Ezra Vieil came in for a regular check-up.

Ever since the soft-spoken bridge bunny was pronounced pregnant at the beginning of the voyage, Duelo had done as much studying as he could on the female reproductive process-- at least according to the Mejerrans. The whole endeavor was a new and completely intriguing topic for the young doctor. Although he found the differences between male bodies and female bodies to be fascinating, it was the similarities that held his amazement. Duelo was using every session he had with Ezra to build his own personal knowledge of the process.

Therefore, it was strange to him when she suddenly started asking about Keith.

"Oh, by the way, how is his condition, doctor?" Ezra asked. She was lying down on one of the beds, when Duelo looked up from the ultra-sound machine.

"You mean our visitor?" he looked back at the instruments.

"Yes, several of the girls are becoming rather curious about him," she explained.

"Well," Duelo noted, "his condition has finally stabilized, and his wounds are healing quite nicely."

"Oh," sighed Ezra, "I see." She played with her fingers while the doctor read between the lines.

"But that wasn't what you wanted to know, was it?" he asked. A slight pause followed.

"How long have the others been putting you up to ask me?" Duelo continued.

"It's been rather non-stop, I'm afraid," Ezra began, "Every time I try to get a moment to myself, either Dita or Jura show up and try to convince me to ask you. At first, I thought it best to respect your wishes for privacy, but now even I have to admit that this new passenger is quite an intriguing mystery... but then you don't need to tell me anything, I can understand. It really isn't anyone else's business," she admitted.

Guilt was a weapon Ezra Vieil was unknowingly skilled at using. Duelo could only sigh.

_"Now even Ezra was in on it?"_ he thought. Duelo had to have seen this coming. Not a day had gone by when Dita, Jura, Barnette or some combination of the three wanted to be let in on Keith's condition, his past, his story-- or to just plain be let in to see the boy. Keith was becoming more and more of a burden to care for, and Duelo figured that if anyone deserved a little information, it was someone like Ezra, whom he knew he could count on to deliver the message and then tell the others to stop. She was one of the only women he knew he could trust.

A silent, smiling, diplomat.

"All right, here's what I can tell you so far," Duelo began. Ezra forced herself up on her elbows to try and hear this better, for hers and her friends' sakes.

"To begin with, his name is Keith, and--"

"Oh my God," whispered a voice neither had ever heard before, but knew who it belonged to.

They both turned their eyes to the bed where Keith was supposed to be, but then, after looking across the room, they saw him standing in front of a window. He still wasn't wearing a shirt, since Duelo didn't want to discomfort Keith's healing ribs, so he was quite a sight to behold standing with his left arm holding his torso, while his free hand was spread across the window. They both stared in awe, Ezra with a hand over her mouth as Keith slowly bowed his head low, pressing his forehead against the window.

Then her heart sank, as low, deep sobs came forth from the boy. Slowly, Keith turned around to face them as he slumped into a seated position with his legs out in front of him, tears streaking down his cheeks like cracks in a mirror. He brought his quivering, right hand over his eyes as his sobs became more pronounced. Duelo rose to rush over and help Keith back in his bed, but Ezra kept him in place with a firm, understanding shake of her head.

They both solemnly sat in place as the boy under the starlit window wept with a sorrow Ezra had not thought existed in men...

* * *

12:00 PM Friday 

Keith was seated in his own bed, and now that he was back to senses, he once again began the common routine of examining everything around him. Although he was sure that room he was in was some kind of medical examination room, it seemed a tad small, closer to a school nurse's office because of the lack of beds. He was still having trouble believing what the doctor (who surprisingly looked to be about his age) was telling him. Thinking of his promise made earlier, Duelo immediately sent a message to the Captain that Keith was already awake and that they would be on their way to the conference room after he was given a few minutes to prepare.

Ever since Keith calmed down enough to think, he was asking questions of everyone in the infirmary. Naturally, they each had questions for him as well, but Keith found himself unable to answer some of the questions he found to be a bit ridiculous. For example, when Keith asked how far along Ezra was in her pregnancy, Duelo immediately asked him how it was that Keith knew Ezra was pregnant-- at which Keith immediately apologized for being a bit too nosy. Eventually, however, he got formally introduced to Duelo, Paiway, and Ezra. He tried to take all of what he was told as rationally as he could, but was naturally having trouble doing so. Finally, Duelo decided that any questions Keith had should be answered by the Captain.

"The Captain?" Keith asked, "Okay, just give me a minute, and I'll go where I need to be taken." Duelo nodded.

"Your clothes are in your bag under the bed; call me when you feel ready… oh, you might need these." The doctor handed Keith his glasses.

Duelo then looked around for Paiway, whom he had sent to get Keith a glass of water. He was pretty sure that his gossipy little nurse was going around spreading the word about Keith even as he was predicting it. Duelo then told Keith to hurry up in his preparations knowing that they might not even make it out the door, much less through the halls to get to the conference room. The wise doctor decided to cut Ezra's checkup a bit short; she kindly understood.

Keith was worried. He knew it only made sense that the Captain wanted to see the person who had caused the crew so much trouble. He thought back to the chase through the halls. All the keypads he damaged, the crewmembers he put in danger. Cautiously Keith looked around the room, and sighed when he saw there were no guards around.

_"Maybe they no longer see me as a threat,"_ he thought. _"Either way, I think it's time I at least explain myself to my hosts, as well as get some answers." _

Keith looked for his red shirt, but strangely realized it was missing. Instead, he looked through his bag and put on a simple white t-shirt over the same pair of denim pants and his trusty red sneakers. He noticed it was a little chilly on board, so over the shirt he painfully slipped on a green sweatshirt and zipped it up halfway, rolling up the sleeves to his elbows as they were always sold in the stores too long-- one of the curses of being short. This allowed Keith to see the light bandaging on his forearms, and he checked them carefully to make sure they were in place. The young man looked around nervously for a mirror, and when none could be found, he decided to just hope for the best. Keith strode up to the door cradling the slight pinch in his ribs whenever he took a step. He found Duelo writing some things down on a notepad, who looked up and nodded when Keith spoke.

"All right doctor, I'm ready," Keith said.

Keith tried to stand tall, but the sting in his ribs forced him to hunch over with an arm covering his midsection. Duelo rushed to his side, helping the shorter boy stand. When Keith was all right to support himself, the doctor gave him a bit of a warning.

"You're going to have to take it easy for a while," Duelo began. "You suffered some injuries your first night aboard… by the way, what exactly happened?"

The doctor and the senior staff already had a pretty good idea, but he needed to have Keith confirm it. The other young man just kept quiet at first, but, trying not to be rude while at the same time trying not to be embarrassed, he just decided to brush the question off.

"I'd rather not talk about it right now..." Keith answered. It was then he remembered his painful first encounter with Dita. He thought about those deep blue eyes, that silky red hair, her gentle pleading voice, the soft curves of her body, and the crushing pressure of her forearms round his jugular... Keith shook his head to forget.

"Very well," said Duelo. The doctor knew he should have pressed for an answer, but he also understood something of the pride of males, and that so many injuries caused by one girl (accidental or not) were still a lot to accept.

Both young men took a deep breath as they faced the door to leave the infirmary. Keith was worried about how the crew would view him after he had caused so much trouble. Duelo was worried about Keith just making it past a hallway full of curious girls-- especially past a certain redhead whom he knew was good friends with his big-mouthed nurse.

* * *

12:07 PM Friday 

Elsewhere, in the kitchen of the Nirvana, that same redhead was in her favorite outfit of a white skirt with pink trim, matching boots, matching long-sleeved top, and black midriff happily stirring rice porridge when she almost dropped her spoon at the news that Paiway suddenly burst through the door with.

"He's awake! He's awake!" the nurse screamed. "That male you nearly killed just woke up, Dita!"

Dita Liebely stood in bubbly awe for a moment. Then, when she remembered hearing Keith was injured, she timidly questioned Paiway on his condition.

"How is he feeling? I didn't hurt Mr. Other Alien too badly, did I?" Dita asked cautiously.

"Well, of course you hurt him badly, silly," Paiway began, "he was unconscious for a full three weeks, ribbit ribbit." Paiway giggled at Dita's ignorance, but then remembered how easily the redhead got upset, so the nurse regretted her comment. Dita's eyes were already watering.

"Well, I didn't mean to," she apologized, "I was just trying to make sure he didn't get away." Dita sniffled, clutching the spoon tightly as she started sobbing. The redhead then slumped on her knees to the floor.

"Oh no, don't cry Dita," Paiway said. "Anyways, like I said, he is awake now. Maybe you could try and make up for it, ribbit ribbit?" Paiway walked over to try and console her older friend. For someone 16 years old, Dita tended to be a little on the sensitive side, wearing her emotions on her sleeve for the entire world to see. Naturally, that meant everyone around her had to be careful not to upset her too badly.

"There, there Dita," Paiway said, "Hey, I've got an idea! Maybe you could cook something for him! He hasn't eaten anything at all in the last four days. Huh? How 'bout it Dita? Whaddya think?" Dita looked up and wiped her tears.

"That does sound like a good idea," she said. Dita started considering all of the wonderful things Keith might want to eat, but then sadly remembered how he reacted the last time she offered food.

"Oh, but what if Mr. Other Alien just runs away again?" Dita asked. "What if he doesn't like what I cook for him? I've already caused him so much trouble and pain..."

Again, her face broke into a frown, and her eyes watered. Paiway thought quickly, and offered an answer to try and stop the redhead's tears.

"Aw, come on Dita, you know how much everyone on board _loves_ the things you cook," Paiway began. "What makes you think this new male wouldn't love your food just as much? And hey, your cooking has managed to make even the other males happy, right? Why would he be any different?" Paiway looked down to see Dita's reaction, and sighed in relief when she saw the redhead smile.

"Anyways, even if he wouldn't like what you'd make, the fact that you injured him so badly means he has no choice but to sit still and eat," Paiway concluded, biting her lip at mentioning Keith's injuries (which were Dita's fault) again. Luckily, Dita didn't seem to catch it this time.

"You're right!" exclaimed Dita. "I made a mistake and I know that, but now I'll do my best to make up for it!" There was a sparkle in Dita's eyes as she rose up and continued speaking her new mission, the spoon in her hand raised high, like a sword of undying fervor.

"To apologize for any trouble, I'm gonna make Mr. Other Alien the best meal he's ever had! And he's gonna sit down and eat it too!" Dita announced.

Paiway shook her head smiling. She admired how easily Dita could decide on a final solution after so little time to really think on a method of applying that solution. Paiway came to realize long ago that when Dita put her mind to a task, she would stop at nothing to accomplish that task. This was the main reason why even though Dita had a lot of friends on board, she would only consult a few individuals on things of real importance-- like Paiway.

The nurse quietly let herself out of the kitchen as Dita happily went to work, pulling out pots and pans and slamming them onto the burners while at the same time reaching in and out of refrigerators for ingredients to be used the "apology menu" she had devised in the last five seconds. As Paiway left the dining hall, however, she failed to notice the girl who was listening through the kitchen door slip unnoticed back to her own room.

* * *

12:20 PM Saturday 

Keith was having the absolute worst time as he and Duelo made their way across the hallways of the Nirvana, as he suffered the most suspicious-looking stares he had ever seen on the faces of any girl. Keith was trying his best, of course, to mask his embarrassment with friendliness; nearly every crewmember he passed he greeted with a warm smile and a gentle nod.

Unfortunately, Keith's tactic was not going as easily as he had hoped it would. Every single crewmember he met only greeted him with wary glances. His attempts at trying to be friendly only got him scowls and distressed looks as girls stepped out of his and Duelo's way, whispering into each other's ears what they really thought about him. This did not make Keith feel bad per se, but given his injuries and his situation, it did not make him feel any better either.

When Keith realized that he would not win their trust and good feelings immediately, he decided to let introductions take their due course. Keeping that in mind, he raised his head high but kept a sly, "up-to-something" look on his face. The stares still came, but at least the young man could keep them guessing. Eventually, he and Duelo made their way to a large door. The doctor knocked to see if there was anyone on the other side.

"Come in," spoke an older voice that Keith had never heard before. Duelo pushed the open button on the keypad and the strange door slid open, revealing what Keith figured to be a conference room. As the two young men made their way inside, Keith was astonished at how perfectly white it was. In the center of the room was a large, oblong table. This table held Keith's attention the most because of the people seated at it. At one of the ends of the table was an older woman in a brown, friarly robe; her face partially hidden beneath a hood.

At the left of the old woman, there sat a girl with bright blue hair and blue eyes. Keith did not particularly like the way she used those eyes to stare icicles at him.

_'No,'_ thought Keith, _'she's trying to stare through me… all right then, miss, I'll have to remember that for later."_

Next to her sat yet another girl, this one in an orange jumpsuit. Her thick, brown hair braided in two large pigtails on either side of her head with pink bows. She was smiling, but Keith could not tell if it was sincere or not as her huge circular glasses covered her eyes (as well as most of her face) completely. Keith was unsettled by this as he had never seen a pair of glasses opaque enough to actually block a person's features. At the other side of the table was the same tall, muscular woman from the Registry trap. Although she casually leaned back in her chair, Keith could tell she was keeping a close eye on him. Behind her was a new woman, slightly younger in appearance, but with silvery hair. Unlike everyone else present, she chose to stand.

Keith looked around and considered this to be a strange gathering through and through. Considering their different uniforms, ages, and ways of carrying themselves, what Keith noticed to be a consistency was that they were all female.

'_Where the fuck am I?"_ Keith pondered, this being the millionth time at least. He was led to a seat at the opposite end of the table, directly in front of the old woman.

The young man fidgeted for a moment in his chair, trying to find a comfortable way of sitting to ease his ribs, when suddenly the woman across from him spoke and Keith found out who the captain was.

"Well now, despite how you arrived, it's good to see you up and about young man. My name is Magno Vivan, Captain of this ship. Your name is Keith, correct?" Magno asked.

"Yes ma'am. My full name is Keith Riley Greers," Keith replied. He tried to be polite, but held his own before this figure of authority.

"'Ma'am?' My, how strangely polite for a male you are. How very interesting… well, allow me to make introductions," Magno said, leading Keith's attention to the girl in the orange jumpsuit.

"This is Parfet Balblair, chief engineer on board the ship. It's her crew that's been in charge of fixing all of the damage caused during your little escapade," said Magno. Keith smiled to her, but then apologized.

"It's, ah, nice to meet you... I guess you've had your work cut out for you these past few weeks. I'm sorry for any inconvenience I might have caused," he lowered his eyes in genuine bashfulness.

"Oh no, it's no trouble!" Parfet chimed back. "Besides, we were getting a little bored in Engineering. It was nice to work around the ship a bit, and there was nothing really all that badly damaged, so I guess I even owe you some thanks for giving us a chance to stretch our legs!"

"Then I guess I'm glad to be of help," Keith replied, smiling.

"The other young lady is Meia Gisborn," said the Captain. "She is leader of the ship's Dread squadron."

"I see… well Ms. Gisborn, it's nice to meet you as well," Keith, said smiling. _'What the fuck's a Dread?'_ he thought to himself shortly after.

"We'll see," was Meia's curt reply. Keith stiffened visibly at this and made yet another mental note about the Dread Leader. Magno continued, gesturing to her right.

"This is Buzam Calessa. She is the sub-commander on board the Nirvana; our first mate if you will."

"Hello," greeted Keith. B.C. only nodded back.

"And I believe you have already met Gascogne Rheingau," the Captain concluded, pointing to the familiar woman Keith had met in the Registry. The young man nodded in Gascogne's direction, and was quickly met with stark silence as Gascogne simply waved and continued to chew on what Keith observed to be a stick.

"Well, you've certainly given us quite a few scares, Keith," Magno began, "starting with all of the commotion you caused that first night." Keith timidly looked up and responded.

"Oh, of course… I guess I did cause a bit of trouble around here," Keith began, "Well, I apologize for any damage caused, but I just did what I had to do. No one was hurt, were they?"

Meia raised an eyebrow. _"Why would he care?"_ she thought.

"No, there were no injuries, but you need not concern yourself with the condition of anyone else on board," Magno answered. "What you should be more worried about is your own health at the moment."

"That is true," said B.C. "According to our doctor, the injuries you suffered were quite extensive. It's a wonder that you're even able to talk to us today."

"Well as I'm told, it was thanks to the doctor here that I made such smooth recovery," Keith said. "I have to be honest with you, Captain…everything here is so impressive, so new. It's nothing like back home."

"Where exactly is your home?" Magno asked. "Where do you come from, Keith?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Captain, I thought it'd be obvious. I come from..." Keith's words froze in his mouth as an idea developed. "Mars. I'm from Mars." Keith mentally kicked himself in the head. _'Oh, sure, like they'd believe that...'_ he mused.

"Mars, really? How terribly interesting," was the Captain's curious yet strangely sarcastic reply.

"Indeed," agreed B.C. "And how did you manage to get on board our ship?"

Keith was momentarily stunned. _'They… they believe me?'_ he wondered. _'Then that would mean that the other solar system planets have been colonized.'_

This realization came as a shock to Keith, but he soon reasoned that it might make some sense, and that began to trouble him in a most uncomfortable way_. 'This has to be some kinda joke or dream or movie, right?'_ he pondered.

"Young man?" prodded the old woman.

"Hm? Oh! I'm sorry," Keith was quick to apologize for zoning out. "Ah, as for how I got here, I can't really say I know, I mean, all I remember is that I was walking home and then it felt as though I was falling from a great height, and the next thing I knew, I was being chased," he glanced at Gascogne, "and shot at."

"You expect us to believe that story?" asked a sharp voice quite suddenly. Keith's head jerked in the direction of the question and found himself pinned to his chair by the ice-cold stare of Meia Gisborn.

'_Whoa, that didn't take long,'_ he thought. "It's as best a story as I can recall, considering the warm welcome you ladies rolled out for me," he retorted, raising a bandaged arm to his sudden interrogator. Meia quickly responded in her usual defensive fashion, standing up in her chair and glaring at Keith as she spoke to the captain.

"He must really be some kind of spy sent here by our enemy," she yelled. "Captain, he's already put the whole crew in danger; he must be detained immediately to prevent any repeat incident!" Keith matched her standing pose as well as Meia's tone of voice.

"Detain me? What, for doing everything in my power not to get shot, only to end up comatose and injured? Where's the logic in your solution!?" he asked.

"My logic is that you are a new male, and as such, we can only approach you by what we know. What we know is that you're a danger to this crew the longer you're allowed to roam free!" was her response.

"For your information, I'm not a new male, whatever that is. Last time I checked, I've been alive and well in this body for near to eighteen years!" he came back. Enraged, Meia stalked around the table until she was within inches of Keith's face. The young man's lack of height meant he could not return the gesture without tilting his head several degrees upward. Although later, he considered this position in between Meia's breasts to have been a fortunate circumstance.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," she seethed, her right index finger pointing accusingly at his nose.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about Gisborn," he responded. "Now please get your damn finger out of my face."

Meia stood unblinking, as the ice in her eyes froze a few more degrees colder. She hadn't confronted anyone so physically since her shouting match with Hibiki. Meia had heard stories about Keith's apparent fighting ability, but right then, a feeling she had struggled to suppress for years suddenly resurfaced. Her free hand clenched tightly into a fist as she shifted her weight to the balls of her feet.

Keith had been watching her breakdown. Although he himself was sufficiently riled up, the change in Meia's demeanor and the obvious shift in her stance sent mental alarm klaxons storming in his mind.

'_Okay, if this skinny minx wants some…_' he concluded. Slowly, he shifted his weight onto his heels and readied his shoulders to do the work of his injured arms. Not even thirty minutes out of his coma, and Keith was poised to fight Meia Gisborn.

* * *

1.) all right, that's four in 12 minutes. 

2.) like? dislike? remember? forget?

3.) review to let me know, please.


	5. the redhead

11:45 AM Wednesday

The stare-down had all but silenced the heartbeats of everyone in the conference room.

At that moment, all eyes were turned on the tall blue-haired Amazon as she stood pointing accusingly at the shorter young man before her. It was very tense in the room and as second after second passed, everyone watching found themselves inching to the edge of their seat as the coming eruption rumbled closer and closer.

Keith did not budge. He had always been taught to respect the opposite sex, to approach females with an unending volley of patience and consideration. And in all honesty, he really didn't know how he ended up in a defensive position about to confront a very angry blue-haired girl.

'_Blue hair?'_ he thought, _'just where the fuck is this pl--'_

Meia had swung first. And that was simply not like her.

Though it had taken her years to suppress every shadow of her previous life, she was certain at 19 that she had managed to control the unpredictability of her own temper. She was not the same girl that was brought up orphaned in the bowels of Mejerr's fallen section. She was no longer a savage, she favored logic… and no logical fighter ever swings first at an unknown opponent.

Keith however, had done something exceptional: he had really, truly pissed off Meia Gisborn.

Now, as she was given an instant to localize the action of the swing, she grew to regret it deeply. Even more so due to the fact that Keith had instantly caught on, and even as the force of Meia's right hook caught him dead in his left cheek, he recovered quickly enough to maintain his center of gravity and stay standing as Meia's hips continued to follow through with the punch. This was a strike of anger, and although it stung like hell, Keith could tell Meia had not planned on following it up. He supposed she had put everything into that one punch to serve as a statement or as an emotional release.

In the end, however, her reason for swinging was irrelevant to Keith. Meia had swung first… and it was his turn now.

Instinctively, he shifted his weight to his heels, which allowed him to hold his footing as he twisted his head and neck away from Meia's fist as the punch's initial force had just begun to die off. Quickly grabbing her outstretched arm, Keith sidestepped around the girl moving parallel with her as his right foot executed a quick, sharp kick to the back of Meia's left knee. As she fell forward, Keith braced her kneeling leg with his own as he held her left arm behind her in a basic arm-bar lock.

The end result was veritable tangle of limbs that featured Keith behind a kneeling Meia with his right leg bracing her left leg against the ground. Her left arm, held in a very painful arm-bar behind her, served as a point of negotiation for Keith as he could now control the outcome of the fight merely on how much pressure he applied to it.

Meia's stunned shock was very quickly replaced with alarm and pain as she struggled to stand on her free leg, or grab Keith with her free arm, but it was no use. Every time she squirmed, he would apply leverage pressure to her left arm.

She was trapped by a male.

Keith's teeth remained tightly clenched as he slowly felt the fight drain out of Meia. In all his classes, he preferred to use locks and throws versus actual contact whenever possible. His lack of height meant that he would have to get real close to any opponent whether his intention was to strike or lock, so he would always go for a lock, because a really hard strike didn't always ensure the end of a fight. Even in physical confrontations, he still preferred to negotiate.

"Agh! Damn you, let me go!" Meia screamed.

"Not a chance… you aren't exactly being very agreeable right now, so I think we'll stay nice and cozy like this until you cool down some," Keith responded. The entire exchange, from Meia's punch to her demand for freedom lasted all of about 7 seconds. Even as the other observers rushed out of their seats to break up the fight, Keith was already applying the lock.

"Keith! That's enough, you've proven your point!" warned Gascogne, slightly winded and yet very amazed at the display. This was Meia being locked, after all.

"What point? You think I gain anything by this, I was just defending myself!" he retorted, angrily.

"Let her go, young man, you're already injured as it is, and you've just recently recovered," the Captain bargained. "There's no need for anymore injuries to fall on anyone."

"I refuse to be blamed for trying to protect myself," Keith said, loosening his grip on Meia's wrist. "I've seen the way you all react to unwanted guests." Meia felt the loosening of the pressure and bit her lip in relief. And Barnette said his skills were only meager? Meia would definitely have her vengeance after this, but first…

"Listen," she began, her voice its usual calm tone. "It was wrong of me to react in the way I did, all right? I was rash in my actions and now I pay the price. Please, Keith, just let me go, and no more harm will come to you."

Keith momentarily sighed as he closed his eyes, before releasing her arm and hoisting Meia back onto her feet. Meia was surprised at how quickly he managed to do this; he lifted her up as if she weighed a third of her real weight. She put that away for later, along several other mental notes she had collected about Keith in the past minute or so.

The young man in question had distanced himself from everyone else in the conference room and stood slumped against a corner favoring his ribs with a bloody arm. His cuts had reopened. He seemed to take a great deal of physical effort just to stand and he desperately braced himself against the wall, as a faint layer of sweat covered his forehead, which he kept bowed from the group.

"Please," Keith begged, his voice fraught with sorrow and pleading. "I didn't come here to hurt anybody… I-I I don't even where here is, why I've been brought here, all I know is that this isn't my home. Please, please I just wanna go--"

Suddenly, the young man lurched forward, before quickly slamming back against the wall, sinking to his knees as his bleeding right arm clutched desperately at his chest. His breathing was morbidly raspy, and came in short, death-choked gasps.

"My, my chest!" he screamed. "My chest is on fire… help me, please hel--"

And he was out cold, slipping into a sweaty unconsciousness as his bloodshot eyes slowly closed shut. Duelo was already rushing over to the boy as everyone else in the room formed a small crowd around the doctor. Duelo quickly flipped a small examination computer on and scanned the boy for irregularities while using his other hand to time his pulse

He had none.

"Help me get him to sick bay, now!" he demanded. BC and Gascogne quickly grabbed opposite ends of Keiths' body as Duelo cleared the hall ahead of the group of onlookers. Parfet moved to the wall-mounted PA system to warn Paiway in the infirmary of an incoming patient before following the doctor thereafter.

The only two people left in the conference room were the Captain and Meia. The latter, still shocked by the events of the last five minutes took a moment to rationalize the situation around her as the Captain leaned back in her chair with a contemplative hand against her suddenly aching forehead. When Magno opened her eyes again, she took of the blue-haired girl's expression.

"I haven't seen you look like that in a long time," she said. Meia glanced back at her mentor to ask the obvious question.

"Like how?"

"Bewildered, lost, unsure of yourself," was the Captain's response. "The last time I saw you like that you were only a child still, wasting away in the slums of Mejerr and spending every morning waiting for death."

"I should go get my wrist looked at… I wouldn't want an injury to affect my flight control," Meia offhandedly said, apparently ignoring what the Captain had just said, on the surface at least. She left the conference room, and slowly padded her way to the infirmary, all the while favoring her left wrist.

"That girl…" was the Captain's only wistful statement as she conference room door shut behind Meia, and she was engulfed in a very eerie, familiar silence.

* * *

Keith would not wake up for at least an hour. And when he did, he found himself once again in the sick bay. He had dreamed as he rested that he was back at home with his family, friends, and enjoying the life he knew best and loved. But waking up to a world that in itself seemed more like a dream than his actual life left him feeling drained, and he suddenly found himself slipping back into unconsciousness as a pair of bright blue eyes suddenly locked with his own. 

Keith was confined to sick bay another day regaining the strength to walk yet again, and it was in this time of recuperation that he decided to try and at least familiarize himself with this brave new world. He talked candidly with Paiway and Duelo and very quickly learned a crash course in the reality that he was suddenly flung into.

He was taught about Tarak and Mejerr. He learned about the great separation of the genders. He heard accounts of each respective planet and his suspicions in terms of time were confirmed: he was at least 2400 years in the future. It was a lot of information to take in at once. And here he was: nothing more than a walking, talking fossil of the old solar system. Keith maintained his story about being from Mars, however, and no one even suspected that he was from a different timeline.

Finally, when Keith was deemed healthy enough to leave the sick bay again, the Captain had decided it best to keep him away from the crew, but upon Duelo's insistence that he be kept close to sick bay as a precaution, decided to give Keith his own room instead. It wasn't like Keith was a threat to anyone anyway, he hadn't been allowed out of sick bay even once during his recovery.

Eventually, the day of Keith's exodus came.

As he looked across the infirmary, Keith saw the friendly woman from earlier lying down in a bed for another checkup. Ezra was rubbing her stomach gently as she admired the sonogram recording of her unborn child. Ezra reminded Keith so much of his own mother when she was pregnant with Darius, his (literally) baby brother. He walked over to her silently, so as not to disturb her.

Then, caught in his memories, he unknowingly laid a hand on Ezra's belly, much to her surprise. Seeing her startled, Keith blushed, and quickly apologized.

"I'm sorry Ms. Vieil… I guess I was just remembering a little too hard." Keith lowered his head as he pulled his hand away. Ezra smiled gently.

"Not at all Keith, I'm glad I could bring back some happy memories for you," Ezra replied, taking the boy's hand in her own and laying it back down on her stomach. Keith smiled back.

"I can feel her kicking. She's just as lively as I remember my brother Darius being," Keith said with closed eyes, chuckling.

"You know, my sister Mara and I, we used to play this game before he was born... when we were sure Mom was asleep, we used to balance something on her belly and we waited to see how long it took him to kick it off!" Keith yelled. Ezra giggled gently.

"Now, you wouldn't believe how strong he was, even before he was born! He kicked off magazines, books, stuffed animals. One time, one of Mara's friends brought over her cat. Now, it took us a while to wait until both my mother and the cat fell asleep, but I swear Darius kicked that cat square into the next room!" Keith was laughing now.

Ezra laughed too. She had to admit that it did sound rather entertaining. She marveled at the ease with which she could talk to Keith casually, male though he was.

When Keith was unconscious, she (along with everyone else on board) only thought him a bit mysterious. Now that he was awake, Ezra was simply fascinated by the way of life he was a part of.

Keith had a mother, and a sister, as well! Such a startling revelation was almost too much for the quiet Mejerran to take in. But during her conversations with Keith, she grew to accept and even envy the fact that the young man cam from an entirely different world than that which was her own. Keith grew up believing that regardless of status, wealth, or even gender everyone had a right to be happy, to make something good for themselves, and that no one-- even the most glamorous or the most privileged could take away that right.

She looked at her stomach and sighed, wishing that her child could grow up in such a way, but knew that Mejerr offered little in the way of a chance at truly being happy. Ezra was also very aware that growing up in a world of intense feminine competition did not leave as many opportunities for the child of a renegade pirate. However, where else could she raise her daughter? Tarak and Mejerr had been warring for decades, and none of the other worlds she had seen during the trip seemed hospitable enough to raise her child.

_"If only there were a better place for you," _she thought. She sat in silent thought for a few moments, waiting for Keith to speak. Ezra then looked up when she noticed Keith had stopped talking. He was looking at the screen and had a defeated look in his eyes as his mood changed suddenly; alarmingly.

"But those days are long gone now, I guess," Keith was detached, his words sounded heavy with burden. "Everything I've ever known or cared about..."

Keith's eyes briefly glistened and he shut them tightly to help stifle the coming tears. He laughed nervously; trying to regain composure as he wiped away a few that escaped his eyelids.

"Ha. Would ya look at me? Crying for no good reason-- I'm sorry Ms. Vieil, you know, my grandmother told me when Mara was on her way, that 'a mother with child shouldn't be burdened with the sorrows of others,'" Keith said, trying his best to mimic his grandmother's scraggly old voice. Absentmindedly, he removed his glasses to wipe away the tears that barely broke through barriers of his eyelids.

"So forgive me for tellin' these sob stories about my old life-- you shouldn't have even been given a reason to feel sad," he finished. "No mother-to-be should ever feel down for doing such a great thing…"

Keith looked away from her, and as he thought of what next to say his emotional defenses could not stop the tremors suddenly rocked his entire body. Ezra could only stare in cold awe at his trembling back. The topic was becoming too complicated for the young man, so he decided to end the conversation.

"Anyway, today's my last day in the infirmary. Doc says I'm ready to leave, but my condition's still unstable so the captain's been kind enough to give me an actual room, for better monitoring. I should go… good-bye, Ms. Vieil," he finished.

With that, Keith took leave of Ezra. She looked on him with pity as he walked towards the window peering out into space for one last look.

_"Such an incredible boy; he carries so much pain. Everyone he held dear... hundreds of light years away. And still he apologizes, as though any of this is somehow his fault," _Ezra thought, frowning.

"Keith," Ezra called after him. The young man turned around, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulders as he nonchalantly wiped a few stray tears away.

"Please, it's all right for you to call me Ezra," she finished, smiling.

Keith nodded and smiled back. "All right," Keith said. "It was nice talking to you, Ezra."

* * *

12:00 P.M. Wednesday 

Keith was escorted through the hallways of the Nirvana past hundreds of similar-looking white doors. Just like before, the crewmembers he ran into would divide in the halls past him. Keith smiled in false glee as he carefully made out what the girls were whispering to each other.

"Can you believe the Captain actually gave him his own room?" asked one girl.

"I know; he's the first! Ya know I heard that he's from Mars!" gossiped another.

"Really? I didn't think there'd still be people there," reported a stagehand.

"Well, at least that explains his clothing," laughed a stray engineer.

Keith only took it all in with a grain of salt as he made an unsurprising conclusion: space girls were essentially the same as Earth girls. He wondered as he walked if they were really any different at all from the females he knew. As far as he could tell, the absence of a male presence in their lives really did not seem to affect their personalities. They still joked, laughed and, unfortunately gossiped as expertly as other young women he had seen around high school.

"This is it," one of guards announced. She turned to face Keith with hard eyes, and intently explained his current situation.

"Consider yourself lucky that the Captain not only allowed you to live, but also gave you your own room… so you just count your blessings, pig," she advised, hatred dripping out of every word. Keith nodded intently, and then narrowed his eyes at her as he processed a response. This girl could not have been any younger or older than he was, yet she had the gall to judge him so harshly.

'_This chick…'_ he thought, annoyingly clucking his tongue. He had met girls like this before, and even though he had no problem exchanging rudeness for rudeness, Keith patiently bit his lip and chose wisdom over conflict-- this time, at least.

_'Besides,' _Keith thought, as he looked her over,_ 'she is kinda cute, especially 'cause she's so angry. I think I'll let that slide for now...' _Keith put on his "waiter's face" and replied in kind, his next words coated in sticky mock- appreciation.

"Oh, trust me miss," he sarcastically gushed, "being around goddesses as _dainty _and _charming _as you is beyond a blessing for me."

Then, Keith gently tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger, winked, and mouthed "good-bye" to the other guards as he entered his unlit room. As the door closed behind him, Keith failed to notice the stunned stares from the two girls that had escorted him to his room. As they looked at each other after a moment of absorption had passed, they both realized, in great shock, that they were blushing as brightly as a pair of prize tomatoes.

"Did that just really happen?" asked one guard, dropping her energy rifle to examine the undeniable warmth in her cheeks.

"Must be some male trick…" replied her deeply flushed comrade. She then reached to her thigh-strapped communicator to relay Keith's transfer to the Captain, but found her clumsy fingers refused to follow the orders her brain commanded_. 'Damn him,'_ she cursed, as the pair walked away in total silence. They agreed to keep this under wraps, for the sake of their reputations. However, as they walked away, they failed to notice two flashbulb pulses capture their moment of embarrassment and the tiniest, most immature voice imaginable call out in the shadows

"Gotcha…"

* * *

As he surveyed the small space, Keith frowned at how blank it was. The room reflected his feelings at the moment: a clean slate; pure and yet disturbingly sterile. 

"Ugh, suddenly, I'm reminded of my first night on board..." Keith said grudgingly, as he clutched his still-aching ribs.

He walked over to the bed which lay beneath a closed window. Keith hit a switch on the wall and suddenly the window opened, revealing the ever-changing carpet of white-speckled darkness that was space. Keith managed a smile; this was a view he had taken a great deal of comfort from during the last few days. He would spend hours looking out into space from the infirmary window just trying his best to cope with its vastness, all the while feeling more and more separated from the life he lived; the people he never said goodbye to…

"No," Keith shook his head. "I can't just let myself rot in my memories…I havta face facts: they're gone now, and I'm alone here," he said sadly.

Keith sighed as he closed the window again. Once more, the room was overtaken by an uncomfortable darkness. He groped the wall for a switch, and flipped a different one, this time causing the room to flood with brilliant white light. Still unaccustomed to its intensity, Keith squinted a bit as his eyes adjusted. Once the room was in focus, he plopped his duffel bag onto the floor and gingerly laid himself down on the bed.

He marveled at how soft it was. Another necessary luxury of Mejerr, it would seem.

"No wonder Barnette was so angry," he whispered. "This is one hell of a bed." Keith wanted to let himself be consumed by the sheets, to be whisked away to the painless, blissful ignorance of sleep… but he knew there were things that needed taken care of so he quickly sat up and shook off his sleepiness-- although with a great deal of reluctance.

"All right," Keith said, as he looked around the room. "What needs to be done first?"

He hopped off the bed and lifted his duffel bag up, opening its large zippered compartment on top. Keith carefully took items out and laid them on the bed to check their condition. A pair of black leather shoes, a pair of cook's slacks, one chef coat, white undershirts, boxers, socks, tank tops, sweatpants, assorted toiletries, his video camera with a collection of tapes in a small box, and his leather knife roll stuffed haphazardly on top. Keith unrolled the black case and saw two empty spaces where a fork and a spare knife should have been. Glaring at the blank sleeves, Keith thought of his best friend, how even if Ian survived the alleyway, he would be lost to time like everyone else he cared about…

Keith rolled the case back up with gusto and got to work busying himself with small tasks to get used to the room.

* * *

Elsewhere, still clad in a frilly pink apron, Dita happily sighed as she surveyed her armada of foods. 

"There!" she chimed, "that should be enough to do the trick!"

If only the bubbly redhead could comprehend how severely she downplayed the gravity of her own words. Before her, laid out on nine kitchen worktables was enough food for 40 people; dishes of all types, from many of Earth's cultures as well as some created on Mejerr. There were a dozen pasta dishes, 14 soups and stews, 10 cold salads, 1 hot salad, 18 chicken dishes, 11 beef dishes, 4 casseroles, mountains of sushi rolls, and enough desserts to fill a decent bathtub.

Dita placed a hand on her hip and cupped her chin in her other hand as she seriously considered cooking more food.When she decided with a smile that this bounty would, in fact suffice, Dita gathered a strong cart and stacked the feast on top as individual plates-- 67 individual plates, to be exact. The dishes were stacked so high that from a distance, it looked as though Dita were pushing a scale model of the New York City skyline. As soon as she pushed out of the cafeteria, she heaved her way in the direction of Keith's room.

"Excuse me, please, whoa! Look out!" Dita exclaimed, as she struggled with all her might to not only keep the mammoth towers of food balanced on the cart, but also to simply push the cart itself.

She wanted desperately to ask for help, but knew that no one would willingly help her move this much food, especially if it was meant for a man. Despite the Captain's speech that urged the crew not to judge prematurely, old opinions still held reign. Knowing this, the redhead bit her lip and dug her heels as she continued her sojourn across the ship.

Along the way, Dita heard a voice with which she had made herself more and more familiar.

"Hey, woman, where are you…Wow! Look at all that food!" she heard the voice exclaim.

It was a voice that sparked her interest ever since the first moment she had heard it. In Dita's mind, it was a voice so intriguing that she had to keep hearing it, to know that it existed. For some reason, whenever the redhead heard this voice, everything seemed to make sense, to fit together. Although the words made by this voice could normally have been chosen more wisely, despite the fact that most of what this voice said were words of scorn or disdain, Dita could not help herself. No matter what happened, she knew she would go crazy if she did not hear this voice at least once in a day. Now what was that emotion called, again?

"Oh, hi Mr. Alien," Dita meekly squeaked.

Hibiki Tokai was standing awestruck at one end of the cart, the view of his entire body covered by the stack of plates. Dita bit her lip at how close he was.

"_Say something!" _Dita thought to herself, blushing. Indeed her mouth opened, but no words came out. Dita was cursing her cowardice when the reason for her failing courage walked around the cart and was suddenly standing right in front of her.

"Hey, what's the occasion?" Hibiki asked. "Is there some kinda holiday you women celebrate that I wasn't told of? Cause if there is, and it involves this much food, then count me in on it!" Dita immediately brightened.

"Ah! How great!" she piped. "Well, first you can start with the pasta primavera. I just know you'll like it Mr. Alien, it's really yummy…"

Dita was actually in the process of climbing one of the towers of plates when she suddenly realized to her dismay that none of this food was meant for Hibiki. She slowly made her way back down and then sullenly pressed together her index fingers as Hibiki stood waiting for his ceremonial first plate (which usually did not last very long). When Dita failed to produce a dish or an explanation, he got impatient. And fast.

"Hey! What's taking ya so long?" he angrily asked. "Where's the food, woman!"

Dita cringed at the acid in his words. This was the side of Hibiki she should have learned from experience not bring to the surface. The side of Hibiki that still stopped her breath short, not out of awe, but out of apprehension. And maybe even a little fear.

"Um, well…Ya see, Mr. Alien, "Dita timidly started, "none of this food is for you." Hibiki was genuinely taken aback; _everything_ Dita cooked was for him. What the hell was this crazy girl talking about?

"Whaddya mean?" he demanded. "If it's not for me, then what's it for, huh?"

More verbal daggers. Dita bit her lip as the familiar heat of tears welling up in her eyes overcame her; she really was only a few seconds from crying altogether. Although the redhead was known around the ship to go with her emotions first, it was clear to everyone who knew her that no one had ever made Dita cry more genuine tears than Hibiki. Her feelings towards him, although a mystery, were powerful, and even though she could not explain why she felt like such a failure for not having made the pilot any food, Dita also would not break her promise to gain Keith's forgiveness.

Bearing that in mind, she stood firm, smiled and offered a compromise for the defensive young man before her.

"Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Alien, but you'll just have to wait for your own food," she said. "I promise that I'll fix you something later, but this happens to be for someone else."

Dita turned up her nose and went on her way, laboriously pushing the towers of food in the direction of Keith's room. When she was far enough away, Dita looked back and sighed in relief. Hibiki was left standing agape like the simian he really was.

"What the hell was that about?" he pondered out loud. "It was just a simple question, after all, jeez!" The vanguard pilot swiped his nose, and stuck his hands in his pockets as he stomped off for the mess hall.

* * *

1:37 P.M. Wednesday 

Elsewhere, Keith Greers was trying his best to make his new room a home. He had just finished arranging his clothes in the unnecessarily spacious closet that came with the room. On his bed, Keith had made a pile of dirty laundry and upon surveying the pile, another dilemma came to mind.Unfortunately for Keith, almost everything he packed had been worn at least once in the past week during the trip. That meant that out of his total wardrobe, all he could wear was a pair of clean boxer shorts. So he wore those boxer shorts.

And nothing else.

He pondered how he would ask around for the laundry room on board, and paced the room in just his underwear as he considered various options. Such was a habit Keith had been comfortable with for a long time, much to the dismay of his family and friends. There had been many an occasion of many an item being dropped due to Keith's-- habit. In his defense, Keith said that if a person didn't have the right to bum around their own home in their underwear, then freedom in general was worthless. He even once said to his teacher-- quite stupidly that he does his best thinking in his underwear. Since admitting that, "take-home" final exams had become a familiar concept to Keith.

That being said, the young man felt nothing wrong with continuing his "pastime" on the Nirvana. And so he paced and paced in naught but his drawers. He considered calling the doctor to see if he had an answer to Keith's predicament, but came to the conclusion that Duelo was simply much too busy to deal with a stranger right now. This realization disheartened Keith greatly.

"Damn! Nobody even gives me the time of day," Keith complained. "What the hell's going on here? I know I'm a stranger and all, but it's not like I'm radioactive…"

It was then that Keith heard several beeps in toned succession. He looked in the direction of the sounds, which, strangely enough, were right in front of his door. Suddenly, Keith remembered hearing those same beeping sounds when he pushed the buttons on Barnette's door keypad.

"The hell… is someone breaking in?" he asked, blinking. The young man in Spongebob Squarepants boxers walked towards the door-- completely disregarding the fact that he was wearing only Spongebob Squarepants boxers. Slowly, he made his way closer to the beeping sounds; it seems that whoever was breaking in didn't know Keith's access code and was trying out random combinations. Keith, however, was not going to give this intruder anymore time to accidentally succeed.

Remembering his own code from when he first entered, Keith walked to his indoor keypad.

Meanwhile, outside Keith's door, a certain redhead was frantically trying different combinations to find her way inside his room. Dita's plan had been to enter the room, and then secretly set up the plates wherever there was space. The fact that it was Keith's room meant that he would have no choice but sit down and try everything. It was foolproof. Then again, this was Dita; loopholes and loose ends tended to nest comfortably in her plans.

Not knowing the access code to Keith's room had proven a prime example of a loose end.

"Oh, this has gotta work!" Dita hoped.

Again, she tried a different arrangement of numbers, and again she was denied. Suddenly, she began to worry about not being able to follow through with her plan; she imagined herself serving cold, unappetizing food to Keith, thus letting him down in the process. It was then that Dita's emotions once again took hold of her. Although everyone on board knew of her tendency to overreact, she would always do her best to honestly walk away from the experience so much wiser. Whenever Dita erred (which was quite often), she always took comfort from the fact there would always be someone to help her through it.

However, Dita hated it even more whenever someone was let down because of her. That was why she pursued Keith so viciously. He was the first person Dita had ever caused any physical pain. In the days when Keith was in the infirmary recuperating, Dita always made it a point to cook something special in case Keith woke up, but up until today, it had been Hibiki she would give the food to.

She never even anticipated that she would have to look in Keith's eyes again. That first night when Dita ran Keith down, all she could see in his dark orbs was fear.

What if this time she saw the same annoyance that took over Hibiki's eyes? Dita shook her head.

"It doesn't matter, now!" she announced. "No matter what, I'll always keep trying!"

Suddenly, the keypad beeped differently, and with the panel reading "unlocked," Dita celebrated in her usual fashion: by happily jumping up and down.

"Now I can get to work! Get ready for the feast of your life, Mr. Other Alien!" she chimed.

Just then, as if by command, the door slid open and Dita realized the room had an occupant. The young redhead turned towards the door, hoping it was someone other than whom she feared it would be. Much to her disappointment, (but only for a moment) she suddenly stared into a pair of wide, dark eyes. She had only looked into those same eyes once before, and just as she dreaded, they instantly widened with fear…

* * *

1.) all right, another one down! 

2.) thanks for dropping by, hit that little button on your way out would you?


	6. the pilot

Disclaimer: Oh believe me, if I owned Vandead, I'd milk the damned series for another 18 stages. But since only two stages thus far are in existence, it's pretty safe to say that I don't own it.

1:38 PM Wednesday

Dita stood unmoving. Part of her was still shocked at the suddenness of what had just occurred. Even after a few seconds had passed, she still had difficulty believing what it was she was seeing, which was a young man with black hair with his torso tightly wrapped in bandaging.

That much she didn't have trouble recognizing.

It was the fact that he was only dressed in a pair of shorts that seemingly belonged to a "Spongebob Squarepants" which had her perplexed. Keith on the other hand was also surprised, but for an entirely different reason. He had only seen this girl's face one other time, and as he once again drowned in her gaze, he slowly remembered his painful encounter with Dita.

_'It's that girl!' _he thought. _'What the hell's she doing here? What does she want?'_

Dita was just as enthralled by Keith.

_'What's going on, why is he only dressed in that?' _she asked. A moment later, she started checking him out a bit.

_'Wow, so that's what men's bodies look like,' _she thought_. 'He sure looks different from Mr. Alien; in fact he's a lot like Ms. Gasco. I wonder if all those strange ripples on his body mean he's hungry or not.'_

Keith was simply telling himself to shut the door and get some pants on.

'_Whatever she wants can wait a couple seconds, right?' _he thought. _'Then why can't I stop staring at her? And just what the hell **is** **she **staring at?' _Mustering his courage, Keith broke the silence and exchanged one awkward moment for another.

"C-Can I…help you, miss?" he asked. Instantly, Dita came back to her senses.

"Oh! um… I uh," she struggled in her mind to find the right words. Dita looked away and bit her lip.

_'Come on! You knew you would have to talk to him again! Oh, why is this so hard to do?' _she fussed. Keith could tell what was going on.

'_Has she come here to apologize?' _he thought. _'Must be that, I'd be just like her if I ever hurt anyone like she did.'_

Dita was still unsure of what to say. Instinctively, she went back to her habit of pressing together her index fingers whenever she got nervous. She knew Keith deserved an answer, but this mannerism of hers was something she could not escape.

And so, the waiting game began.

* * *

Barnette Orangello was never one to pursue drawn-out conflicts. 

Though she was prone to carrying a grudge, she favored the idea of the benefit of the crew overtaking her own. Ever since Meia had assumed leadership of the ship's communal Dread squadron, Barnette was forced to take a position of third-in-command, after Jura. For all her pretentious politeness at face value, it was clear to the crew that Barnette had felt at least some trace of rebuke at having been pushed back even further. She had not hunted the top spot per se, but she would not have denied it.

Since Meia's climb to the top, though, Barnette had learned at least to relax a tad bit more. It had become clear to her after a few months under Meia's command that the blue-haired girl was far more qualified for the position; Barnette could never willingly discipline her own self to the obsessive extent that Meia had done so.

Barnette had even come to enjoy taking a more casual seat in the chain of command. She was not so far up that she lost sleep worrying about her Dread's response times in relation to pilot error, but she was not so far down that other pilots would refuse consulting her. She had become happy where she was; and her progressive relationship with Jura, whatever stage it was in, reflected her contentment.

The crew had noted with some alarm, then, following Keith's arrival, that Barnette's attitude had suddenly grown… sour.

The green-haired girl had become moody, defensive, and uncharacteristically angry. Her command over Dread team C had suddenly become rife with tension and her actions towards her three wingmen had increased in severity. As their fear of their leader grew, team C's simulator scores depreciated greatly which Barnette was not happy to find out about, which in turn would then reinitiate the cycle of tension in the Dread team.

In her life outside of the cockpit, Barnette now found herself traversing the hallways solo, with the ship's shooting gallery becoming her home away from home, where she had spent hours of the day firing off thousands of rounds of ammunition at unknown assailants.

Even the way she interacted with Jura had grown strained.

Where once the pair could be found attached at one another's hip, now it was a rarity to ever see the two at all in front of curious eyes. Barnette had become a recluse, only leaving her room to dine at the Trapeza, or while away an afternoon at the shooting gallery. She hardly ever entered her Dread except at times of battle, and her visits to the training simulator had become few and far between.

She had become a carbon copy of Meia in almost every aspect except that her piloting skills had suddenly nosedived since Keith's arrival.

It was during one sojourn to the Trapeza that Barnette had overheard Dita and Paiway's conversation concerning Keith's awakening. At the mere mention of the young man, every muscle in Barnette's body tightened fivefold and her purple eyes narrowed to hateful slits so hairline fine that wisps of smoke could have nested in them.

"So, he's awake now…" was all she had said, before slipping back to her room to quietly plot her confrontation. Keith was going to pay, that much she promised, at first. Since then, she had had plenty of time to consider the extent.

Now two days following Keith's second visit to the infirmary, Barnette was quietly striding down the hallways of the Nirvana. On her face was plastered a look of sheer calm so thorough that it nearly seemed as though the girl was sleepwalking. All she had thought about was Keith, her hatred for him growing with every breath of air she took in. As she made her way for Keith's room, no one in the halls who passed her noticed the silver revolver that she tightly clutched in her left hand.

* * *

Keith was now becoming more and more uncomfortable… and for good reason. 

It was bad enough this girl showed up at the worse possible time, but standing in an open doorway was letting in a draft, so he was also getting colder by the second. When the young man realized his shivering was no longer out of surprise, he decided to try and put this awkwardness to an end.

_'After all,' _he thought, shivering. _'She can't even talk to me right now… might as well get some pants on, at least_._' _He gave the nervous girl a quick once-over, and then spoke again.

"Um, I'm sorry, miss, but it's a little cold, so if you would just excuse me for a moment," he said, punching in the close-door sequence. Dita quickly regained her resolve when she thought that Keith was trying to escape her plan.

_'Stop him,' _she thought, _'he's getting away!' _Dita leapt at Keith through the closing doorway with all her might, tripping into him as she lunged forward with sudden momentum.

"No, please wait!" she called, stopping Keith's right hand on the keypad with her own. He looked down at the distraught young lady, astonished by how quickly she moved. The warmth of her hand was still on his, her face nearly buried in his chest. Again, Keith could not believe how heavy she was.

_'Holy shit!' _Keith thought, _'What the hell is she eating? For a small frame, she's pretty damn heavy!' _Keith looked down, to see only a mass of red hair, framed almost childishly by a strange gold headband. There was softness where he felt her breathing cheek against his chest._ 'Crap, is she unconscious?' _he thought. _'Better wake her up, then.'_

"That was quite a tumble, miss; you okay?" he asked.

Suddenly, Dita realized where she was. The redhead looked up cautiously to meet Keith's face. In place of fear she now saw understanding, even a little amusement. She slowly brought herself back up to posture, but found it strangely difficult to leave Keith's warmth.

"Um, miss?" she heard Keith say next.

She looked at his face, and he grinned slightly, gesturing with his head towards his right side. Dita then saw his right hand on the wall held down on the keypad by her own and her pale cheeks tinged a pink flush as she released it from her grasp. The two stood uncomfortably in Keith's doorway another moment before the young man in his underwear really started to get uneasy with the situation.

_'Come on, Greers,' _he told himself. _'How many times have you ever been in the same room with a girl while in your underwear? None! What kinda guy are you? She's just a girl, right? Just speak your mind and put some pants on, already!' _He took a deep breath, stood up straight, and calmly said what needed to be said.

"Listen, I know these past couple minutes might've been a little weird for the both of us," he began, slowly backing away from her as he talked. "But this is kinda _my _room, so if you don't mind, I'd like to get dressed, leave, and then you can go ahead and do _whatever _it was you wanted to do in here, okay?"

He slowly backed to his closet, where he grabbed his trusty jeans and another plain white t-shirt. Keith had just managed to slip his red sneakers on when Dita's sense of alarm compounded.

_'Oh, no!' _she thought. _'He's leaving again… I gotta stop him!'_

Keith was making his way back to the door when, to his horror, he watched Dita stand firm... she was smiling. This change in mood caught Keith off-guard. He knew he could have gotten away if she was still nervous, but now this sudden, terrifying happiness of hers stopped him dead in his tracks, with his heart stampeding in his throat.

"Hey!" she chimed. "I heard ya finally woke up, and that you hadn't eaten in a while, so I hope you don't mind if I made you some food!" In a flash, Dita dashed across the room, until she was only inches from Keith's face and asked him coyly, "You have eaten food before, right, Mr. Other Alien?"

Keith was trembling. He was trying his best to keep his composure, but the mixture of confusion and fear he felt towards Dita from the beginning quickly resurfaced.

_'What the hell does she mean 'have I ever eaten food before?" _he thought, before another question arose. _' ...Mr. _Other_ Alien?!'_

Keith slowly backed away as Dita stalked towards him, describing everything she had prepared for him to eat in a fast-paced, high-pitched, flurry of giggle-speckled sugary jibberish. As he listened, smiled, and nodded Keith couldn't believe his ears. Most of the dishes she described took hours to prepare, and some needed at least three other people to properly finish off. Yet, as disbelieving as the young man was, what he suddenly realized as Dita babbled on was just how hungry he was.

Despite the bubbly, talkative vacuum that was marching ominously towards him, Keith did have to admit that food didn't really sound too bad. Still, as he watched Dita continue her approach the young man's hunger very slowly transformed itself into nausea.

"So, whaddya think, huh? Huh?" she pressed on. At this point, Dita had literally pushed Keith all the way to the other side of his room with his back almost parallel to the wall, and it was in this moment that he admitted he had never felt so trapped in his life.

"Doesn't it all sound so yummy? Well, whaddya think, Mr. Other Alien?" she asked. Keith was simply too scared and confused to answer, so Dita decided to take the initiative; the food _was _getting cold.

"Oh, I know you're just gonna love it all! Come on, Mr. Other Alien, what are ya waitin' for?" she finished. Then, Dita latched on to Keith's left hand, which was actually in his front pants pocket, and nearly flung him out the door with all her might. Again, Keith couldn't believe the sheer physical strength of this girl.

"Wait, wait! Where are we going? Hold on-- Ouch! Not so hard, that arm was busted, miss!" Keith called.

Dita was not listening. In another instant, Keith was suddenly outside his room and out in the hallway, he saw them: the massive towers of food. He was struck dumb by the sheer height of the covered plates. As he walked closer, his sense of smell was bombarded by literally hundreds of individual aromas that his cook's nose had been taught to identify. Though he could not see a single dish, the pit of his very empty stomach told him there was good eating ahead, and he was so emotionally moved that he literally laid a hand on the cart to confirm that what stood before him was in fact, reality.

So caught up in the maelstrom of hunger, aroma, and anticipation, Keith had failed to notice that around the corner, a set of purple eyes stared very promissory bullet holes right in his direction. Barnette felt the slightest ghost of a smile dance across her lips as she advanced, gun-drawn, on the male who had turned her life upside down.

* * *

2:00 PM Wednesday 

It is debatable what the exact flavor of vengeance is.

Some people, who feel embittered for one reason or another, would say that it tastes unimaginably sweet. Others, who are only slightly more compassionate, would say its sweetness is only temporary and quickly replaced by sour. Another camp of individuals, mostly masochists, would heartily speak of a salty/savory sort of tingle that vengeance rains down on one's palate.

Barnette Orangello, however, could really care less.

Sweet, sour, salty, bitter… these were trifles as far as she was concerned. What mattered to her was vengeance itself. She had never really considered something as far-fetched as the flavor of revenge before. It seemed ludicrous! Vengeance was a frame of mind; a state of being, either resolved through fulfillment, or dissolved through release. It was not some strange, exotic fruit that one bit into, tasted and pondered! The "flavor of vengeance," indeed! That was something that only a lunatic would think of.

It was… wasn't it?

In that moment, the young woman actually took a moment to stand still and think. Think of what she was doing; of what she planned on doing; of the person she planned on doing this to. This was not something she would do! What would everyone think? That she had finally snapped; that's what they would think. They would all breathe a sigh of relief that Mt. Barnette had blown her top and took a life as consequence. Did she really want to accept the mantle of a murderer?

Absentmindedly, she brought her hands to her eyes so as to dry the tears that threatened to break through her defenses. Her right hand still clutched the revolver. In the bright light of the hallway it gleamed its true silver back into her eyes. Though it was obviously her imagination, she could have sworn she heard it laughing. Her grip on its killing handle seemed all of a sudden very loose.

"You'll never judge me, will you?" Barnette asked, turning the weapon in the light. It seemed to answer her with more of its silver laughter. Whether it was mocking her, or merely driving her forward the young woman could not say.

As she tightened her grip, she felt the gun's weight and recalled how just a minute ago she had filled its gaping belly with six bolts of leaded retribution. In the palm of her hand, Barnette swore she could feel every single Magnum round encased within the pistol, each one bristling with tension to escape its isolation. The gun itself was bloated with hatred and heavy with burden, as was its master. And, Barnette knew that like its master, the gun could only be relieved by expelling its burden of hatred… all six rounds of it.

Vengeance.

She had never even experienced anything resembling a desire to pursue it, or so she had thought. But something had happened to her though; something that had changed her perception of what justice really was… or, more accurately, it was someone.

'I know you can never find it in your heart to forgive me, but I do hope that you'll at least understand.'

Those were the words… his words. The words of one male, who, known to a select few on board the ship, was named Keith Riley Greers. Barnette was not among those few. She was the first person to ever encounter the young man and had yet to even to be told his name. For two months she had waited, stalking the halls in anticipation for when he would wake up. Adding to her irritation, she eventually found out that it was none other than Dita who had managed to finally bring him down. Barnette had sworn since then that she would finish the job.

And now her chance had come. Reputation be damned…

She raised her head and inhaled deeply. The tears had stopped. The doubt had lifted. Yet the pistol in her hand was still as heavy as ever. And why would it not be? She was the one who loaded the damn thing.

"Cock the hammer… raise the weapon… down the sight… squeeze the trigger."

It was a mantra she played through in her mind every time she held a gun in her hands. She had found out a while ago that if she kept replaying it, she would never miss a shot. Looking down the hallway as the same young man was helplessly being pestered by Dita in front of what seemed to be a very loaded down cart, Barnette considered the distance, guessing 30 yards. She could quell her demons without having to take a single step forward, this she knew. But still she walked on, keeping Keith fixed within the reticule of her mind's crosshairs.

She wanted this to be up close and personal.

Besides, the pistol was heavy, and in her daze Barnette had reserved just enough coordination to lift it once. She wanted to make sure that when she lowered it again, Keith's dead body folded on the floor at the same time.

* * *

Foreboding (fohr-boh-ding) n. 

1.) a prophecy.

2.) a presentiment.

3.) a strong inner notion or feeling of a future misfortune, evil or catastrophe.

These are the dictionary terms one would find and associate with when confronting the word mentioned above. For most people, plain black and white is enough to explain most things they experience. For our traveler Keith, however, most things are experienced on a more visceral level. In his case, for instance, the word mentioned above manifests itself to the young man in the form of a sensation: his hands grow unnaturally cold.

This does not necessarily mean they get stiff, sore, jammed or difficult to control. Whenever this happened in his past, he always maintained a level head and accepted what his instinct told him whenever his hands felt like they had held inside a refrigerator too long: that something very bad was about to happen to him and him alone.

As the peppy redhead continued to assault Keith with husky descriptions of the dishes she had slaved all evening before and the following morning to concoct, it became increasingly difficult for him ignore the fact every moment he spent outside of his new room and in the open was steadily turning his fingers into ice. Sticking his hands into his pockets as was his basic reaction, Keith took a moment to survey his surroundings in the hallway.

Apart from Dita, who, by this point, had laced her left arm through the crook of Keith's right elbow, the young man noted with a hint of alarm how the hallway had suddenly become deserted. Maybe it was the hour of the day, or the isolation of his room coupled with the fact that every female on board had made an effort to avoid him that made Keith grow nervous, but that was not necessarily what made his hands ice-cold.

As crazy as it sounded, he could feel someone looking right at him.

But from where, he could not tell. And every second he remained out in the open kept his hands below freezing. Slowly, though, and above Dita's chatter, he began to hear quiet footsteps. The step-and-click pattern told Keith that someone was approaching him and wearing some type of heavy-soled shoe. The pace was steady, relaxed, almost deliberately so. Whoever was coming had no intention of hiding their approach.

"Where the fuck are you coming from?" he whispered, luckily above Dita's range of hearing. He listened with renewed concentration. Closer and closer the footsteps came, never varying in speed or in loudness.

'Not running… but not dragging,' he thought. 'Someone absolutely calm, someone purposely saving energy.'

Another moment of listening soon passed and Keith still could not tell from which direction the footsteps were approaching. Instinctively his ice-cold, trembling hands balled into tight fists while still jammed inside his pants-pockets. He was about to ponder simply making a break and running again, when, much to his alarm, the young man took note of how quiet the hallway had suddenly become.

"What the--" he began, glancing at Dita, who, for her part, was tombstone-silent and very much focused on something… or someone…

Behind him!

"Shit!" Keith hissed, and started turning, eyes wide as dinner plates while the hot, firm grasp of a stranger's left hand forcefully gripped his left shoulder and finished the job of rotating the young man around for a face-to-face encounter. In his mind's ear, Keith could hear Dita suddenly draw in a sharp gasp of air mixed with the faintest trace of a fearful whimper. Obviously, she had a reason to sound so frightened.

As Keith assessed the look of his assailant, he wondered if he should have been frightened as well…

… that is, until Keith heard him speak.

"So you're the bastard she made all this food for, huh?" Keith heard him say, as the smaller stranger rested two balled fists on his hips… before tilting his head down and spitting on Keith's left shoe. "Well, this isn't exactly the best way for you to be gettin' on my good side, now is it, asshole?"

Keith's left eyebrow twitched once, his fists still trembling in his pockets as a single, monotonous sentence started playing over and over in his mind, like a bad dream waking:

"Remember Keith: it isn't self-defense unless he strikes first."

* * *

1.) whew, again. done. sorry, guys, but that'll have to all for now. 

2.) as you can plainly see, i've condensed the content from the previous nine chapters into six, allowing more room for me to build more as the story progresses, as well as consistenly longer chapters for you readers to enjoy while you wait for updates.

3.) i've tried my best to maintain what was already established so as not to confuse you few and faithful readers out there somewhere. i like my story, it just needed a little streamlining.

4.) two more chapters, just as long and as bulky as this one, are finished and waiting for me to upload... but i'll wait a little to add those on so as to write notes for chapters ahead. you know how i love a good cliffhanger!

5.) thanks so much for the support and reviews. i love the acceptance i get from this section, and i'll never forget my roots again, that's a promise.

6.) you know the routine. please review on your way out. i'll back again soon so keep your eyes open.

7.) until then, happy reading to you...


	7. the voice

Disclaimer: I do not own Vandread. If the opposite were the case, then Meia Gisborne would have had a bionic arm… which, to this day, sounds frickin' awesome to me.

* * *

It is a rare thing for an individual to say that they truly hate someone. 

Most people would find it difficult to even place their own personal definition of hate into words. Whether they ponder it on for extended periods of time, or instead simply gloss over the thought, it is the idea of hate, not so much the experience of it that makes it such an elusive emotion. In a larger perspective, because society values the suppression of "negative" emotions, many people are actually lost in terms of how to deal with hate, if and when they should finally discover it. The greater question is not only how to deal with it, but whether or not it should even be dealt with.

Think about it. When was the last time you ever heard the phrase, "Happiness Management?"

The truth is, civilized society would rather we never experience hate. And if we should fall by the wayside and discover this taboo emotion, we should consider the convenience of others and contain it. Keep it to ourselves. We are never told to admit to it, or to express it. We are told to do nothing, to say nothing.

It is in that blissful ignorance that we allow our hatred to consume ourselves… and, eventually, those around us.

Barnette Orangello, for the first time in her life, had found a calling which she could claim as her own. Although it meant admitting to her own descent into hatred, she could at least take solace in the fact that now she had set a course to follow through into what she convinced herself was destiny. It made perfect sense: when a problem is encountered, one overcomes said problem. It seemed foolproof.

The heavy Smith and Wesson in her hand could not have demonstrated clearer resolve. Every finger of her right hand was engaged in orchestra to hold onto the gun. Despite the fact that it felt as though her wrist would dislocate any moment, Barnette was stone-faced and focused. Her right index finger, all but strangling the pistol's trigger, was unsteady and bristling, achy to curl that little bit tighter against its cold steel to finish the mission that its master had begun. She was ready, so ready she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her eardrums as her thigh muscles tightened against the wet warmth that flooded her loins.

"_Unbelievable,"_ she thought, stopping at the familiar scent of female arousal. _"I'm actually getting off on this."_

But the girl herself, the avenging angel, was unshakable. Barnette's target was not only sight, but close enough for her to smell the antiseptic on his bandages. She needed only raise her arm, no, tilt her wrist and the source of her disdain would crumple to the cold, white floor.

In the darkest reaches of her mind, Barnette had even played the epilogue after taking the crucial shot: she would march forward, pistol smoking, as the young man of her nightmares flailed and spasmed uncontrollably at her feet, spraying hot blood along with solid bits of flesh and gore against the walls while clutching dementedly against a hole in his throat large enough to stuff an apple inside of. His eyes, wide, crimson and crazed with shock would slowly rise up and meet her own, steely and purple with frozen conviction, and would open wide again one instant later as Barnette levels the gun at his face, its cavernous barrel almost twisting into a grin as the pistol's cylinder spins clockwise, chambering another Magnum round into position.

The hammer cocks back… one last muzzle flash, one last bang, and she would be wearing his hot DNA, smiling royally the whole time through. At last, her misery would be over. And without a doubt, such a scene would have played out exactly as Barnette had envisioned… that is, until another treacherous male entered the fray.

* * *

2:07 PM. Wednesday. 

Once again, Keith Riley Greers, the living definition of a "stranger in a strange land" had found himself in yet another stare-down. Not even one minute had passed since Hibiki's snide remark, and already Keith had sized him up… unsurprisingly, he deemed the Tarakian to be of virtually no threat. Discounting the fact that Hibiki looked like a refugee from Cirque du Soleil, Keith's breakdown read as follows:

1. He's actually shorter than me… I, Keith "fun-size" Greers, am actually taller than someone.

2. He's absolutely skinnier than me.

3. He's not positioned in anything that even resembles a fighting stance.

4. He's gonna try and pick a fight with me… over food.

Regardless of what his checklist told him, however, Keith knew it was better to be safe than sorry. A sharp mind can be a very effective weapon when the body is lacking.

"_Maybe he's smarter than he looks," _Keith cautioned. Warily, he engaged his foe with words. He began with the obvious, and decided it was wiser to find out a little bit of how his opponent thought. It would serve as a way for him to cool down from the outrage that boiled inside him. By now, small amounts of Hibiki's saliva had slipped between his shoelaces, soaking the tops of Keith's toes and angering him to no end.

"So what?" he asked. "Is spitting on a stranger the way guys greet each other around here?" Hibiki only folded his arms and grinned, knowing he had already gotten under Keith's skin. Or so he thought.

"No, men of Tarak greet each other by shaking hands and saluting," he retorted. "Men of Tarak also acknowledge their inferiors by spitting on them."

"So spitting is a greeting?" Keith sarcastically cut in, seemingly unfazed. Quickly incensed, Hibiki's brow furrowed and his mouth opened wider to accommodate the sudden bout of yelling that he had developed a knack for. His shoulders rose together and he could feel his fingers clenching into tight fists as control of the situation was being wrested from him.

"What are ya, deaf? I already to ya what a greeting is among men!" he chided angrily. "I don't know where you come from, or who the hell you think you are, but everybody knows that a real man always greets his fellow man, but for some reason, you chose to greet a woman first!"

Keith blinked. Hibiki's scolding ran so completely opposite to his own logic that he momentarily lost his sarcastic train of thought. After a few seconds' catching up, Keith still only found himself capable of expressing how dumbfounded he was. He pushed his glasses against his nose and inhaled deeply.

"What," he asked, genuinely confused, "are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this!" Hibiki answered, gesturing to the cart.

"_Well, that didn't help,"_ Keith thought. "Oh, yeah, the food… what, do ya want some, too, because there's more than enough to share--"

"Men of Tarak don't share anything with inferiors! You are my inferior!" Hibiki continued, wagging a finger at Keith as he closed the gap between them. "Or did you already forget that I spat on you?!"

"_The hell I forgot,"_ Keith mused. He kept his face as neutral as he could, but internally grinned as he drew together his final conclusion of Hibiki's threat assessment. For once, it seems Keith had overestimated his opponent. The test was over. Hibiki had failed. He purposefully tilted his head down, to a point where his nose was almost level with the Tarakian's.

"But I thought you said that was just a greeting," Keith sassed, feigning ignorance, and sending Hibiki over the edge as the mechanic moved to attack, screaming as he always did so.

"You smart-aleck bast-- oof!"

Hibiki, at his wit's end, lunged at Keith's throat with bodily force all the while neglecting to defend himself as the other young man just as quickly side-stepped to his right while raising his left knee to collide with the pilot's solar plexus. His lunge now halted, and terribly out of breath, Hibiki's first reaction was to slump forward, so Keith took advantage of his downward momentum and managed to pin Hibiki's left hand to the floor with his left sneaker while his right knee braced against the Tarakian's left calf muscle. Immediately after grounding his opponent, Keith wrapped his left forearm under Hibiki's chin and braced it against Hibiki's right arm while Keith's own right hand fingers interlaced with his opponent's and quickly stretched them backwards unnaturally, to serve as a negotiation point.

What first began as gasps and heaves for air quickly became high-pitched squeals of pain as Hibiki was made to feel both of his hands coming under assault. Unable to tilt his head down, he felt as though every point of articulation was being bent in a way that it was not designed to. He had lost. Light years away from Tarak and he could still hear his peers laughing at him. Any moment now, and he was certain this new male would start laughing as well.

However, what both men heard next they had not expected. Dita began pleading for Hibiki's safety.

"Let him go! Please let Mr. Alien go, he didn't mean it!" she begged, her blue eyes shimmering with fresh tears, as shameless sobs began plaguing her cries mercy. "Please, that's enough! Can't you see you're hurting him? Oh, please stop this, just please let Mr. Alien go!"

Despite his pain, Hibiki's next mental complaint was of embarrassment, not only because the girl's pleas were directed in his favor, but because he could feel his captor easing his pressure on the lock the more and more Dita begged. At length, the pilot heard Keith sigh, seemingly hesitant at first, and then slowly, Hibiki was released. The mechanic fell in a heap against the floor, favoring both of his hands, and hissing loudly as he tried to move his fingers. It was only an instant later that Dita knelt by his side trying through sobs to cradle his head in her lap while the pilot wriggled almost desperately to escape her grasp.

"_Shit,"_ Keith cursed, thoroughly embarrassed, _"What the hell did I do?"_

After another awkward silence, broken only at increments by Dita's sobbing, the young man moved towards his foe. Hibiki, for his part, eyed Keith warily before his nervous system executed instant pain relief-- by knocking him out cold. Protectively, Dita tried to hold him in place, not willing to risk any further injury to her fellow pilot. When Keith moved towards the two, Dita only held Hibiki tighter as her tears stopped and her instinct to protect came to the surface.

"Miss, both of his wrists are probably sprained," Keith offered as he knelt, cringing at Dita's tears. "He has to see the doctor to prevent any long-term damage."

If only out of guilt, and completely out of character, Keith slowly extended his hands and, quite forwardly, but still gently began wiping away all of the tears that remained on Dita's face. Cowering with surprise at first, Dita grew soon calmer as she began to regard the gentleness of the young man's touch. His hand was warm, Dita noticed. It was rough, as she knew Hibiki's was as well, but it was so warm, so delicate that Dita instantly knew more about Keith than anyone on board at that time.

She did not know his name, his origin, or his reason for even being on the Nirvana. But she knew him. Without so much as a decent conversation with the young man, she had found out more about his character in the breadth of one touch than any length of words could tell. Perhaps it was only because she was so naïve, so trusting, so unwilling to judge, but she could clearly recognize the gentle touch of one who knew how to love. She knew, somewhere in this young man's past, that he had shown this same care and gentility to someone he held dear. Every motion of Keith's fingers was adept and confident, moving softly against her cheeks as if he had done this task a thousand times before.

In that instant, despite the circumstances, the redhead knew for certain that Keith would never harm her. Inspite of herself, and also because of herself, Dita blushed at this thought.

And then, quite abruptly, his warmth was gone. Instantly alert, and slightly annoyed, Dita composed herself at the same time Keith did.

"That's better," Keith stated, wiping his hands on his jeans. "You care a lot about him, don't you?"

Dita's breath caught in her throat and her eyes blew up to size of dinner plates as a fit of stammering overcame her.

"Um, well, that is… I, uh… ya see, Mr. Alien is…"

"Unconscious," Keith cut in, smirking.

"Oh my-- ah, I know… we should get Mr. Alien to see the doctor!" Dita suggested, holding out her index finger, as desperation forced her to change the subject.

"Wonderful idea," Keith sarcastically agreed, slinging one of Hibiki's arms over his shoulder. "Why hadn't I thought of that?"

Lifting the pilot to his feet, Keith momentarily assessed Hibiki's weight, before pursing his lips, shrugging, and flinging the unconscious mechanic over his shoulder in a manner not unlike the carrying of a rag doll. Wrapping his right arm around Hibiki's hamstrings, Keith glanced at either side to regain his bearings, but soon scrubbed his hair in frustration of being lost. At length, he regarded Dita with a hopeful smile as he voiced his concern.

"You wouldn't happen to know which to go, would you?" he asked. It took the Vandread pilot another instant to snap out of her daze before regaining enough composure to answer.

"Yeah, it's um, this way," she offered, pointing down the hall. "You're awful strong aren't ya, Mr. Other Alien?"

"I wouldn't say that I'm strong as much this guy's light, but thanks for the compliment," Keith returned, only stopping momentarily to ponder the very unusual nick-name that Dita had once again referred to him as.

"Well, I didn't mean it like that," Dita began, lacing her fingers behind her as she kept pace with the young man. "I mean, you're pretty strong for someone your size, right? I mean I didn't think that-- Oh no! Are you alright?"

Dita knelt down to assist Keith, who, for some reason, had tripped on an unseen crack in the floor and landed face-first.

"I'm fine," he recovered, smiling widely as his left eyebrow twitched, "just fine, really." _"'For someone my size, she says? Thank you very much, God!"_

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dita pressed, apparently unfazed by the effect of her previous comment. "That looked like it really hurt, Mr. Other Alien."

"_Only on the inside,"_ Keith thought, slumping. Turning his attention somewhere, anywhere else, Keith took stock of the cart of food that Dita had so obviously struggled to deliver. He sighed as he walked towards it, mostly out of regret.

"Oh, about the food," he began, "It looks like I'll have to take a rain check on eating; besides, I don't think I could have gotten a third of the way through all that food, anyway."

"Really?" Dita asked, confusedly pointing in Hibiki's direction. "Mr. Alien could have finished it all in about an hour."

"_No shit huh?"_ Keith thought, glancing sarcastically at the pilot's unconscious face. _"Oh yeah, obviously a pig, this one… how could it have escaped me? I mean just look at the room he would have had to put it all in."_

"Well, regardless, I'm sure it would all have been delicious," Keith admitted, coloring Dita's cheeks as he did so, "it's a shame I couldn't try even a little bit of it…"

"It is a shame... what an excellent last meal it would have been."

* * *

2:15 PM. Wednesday. 

Keith instantaneously stopped where he stood, gritting his teeth and gulping as he finally took a moment to realize how cold his fingers had become. Dita, at a loss for words, positioned herself behind the food cart, immediately at Barnette's side as the girl in question leveled her pistol directly at the back of Keith's head. Had Hibiki been awake, he would be able to read the caliber markings stamped into the bullet that rested in the pistol's firing chamber.

"_Thank you _very_ much, God!" _Keith thought, cursing his lack of luck. Instinctively, he glanced to his right, shifting his right foot under the cart and lifting one of its wheel-locks up. What he had just come with was without a doubt the most wasteful and unnecessary plan he had ever cooked up, but timing was critical. _"Ah shit, she's right there, Greers! I'm really sorry about this Miss-- uh…damn, now that I think about what is her name?"_

The sliding click of a hammer cocking redirected his immediate attention and without another moment's hesitation, Keith ducked as he twisted his body completely around, briefly staring right into Barnette's eyes and relishing the look of alarm she wore as the young man grasped both sides of the cart and tilted it away from the wall against which it rested and directly at Barnette. Somehow she managed to avoid the cart itself, but could not jump away far enough or quickly enough to dodge the many towers of plates that covered her entire body in shadow as they tumbled en masse in her direction.

"Aah!" Barnette wailed, quickly covering her head with her arms as plate after plate shattered at her feet, each one leaving its contents on her hair, on her face, in her suit, in her gun, quite literally everywhere and anywhere. It was a sensory disaster as Barnette could feel every item of food hot and cold, crispy and soft, impact against her skin. She felt every kind of filthy imaginable. She would have to move into the Jacuzzi to feel anywhere near clean again.

After a moment's shock had passed, the dread pilot flailed around, muttering obscenities out loud as she struggled to burrow her way out of this orgy of food. Upon finally poking her head out of the quagmire that surrounded her, Barnette looked in Dita's direction and saw that her wingman was squatted on the floor, turned away from her with her hands over her head as she quivered in her regular fashion. Turning in the direction where she could hear heavy footfalls, Barnette scowled upon seeing the image of Keith's retreating back, as the young man's silhouette shrunk in size the farther away he ran.

"Agh, no!" Barnette shouted, as she cocked her hammer, raised her weapon, aimed down the sight, and squeezed the trigger…

…only to hear a loud protesting click, followed by another, then another, and another. Not exactly the devastating muzzle blast she was expecting.

"What the--?" she began asking, before she took a moment to absorb the fact that there was a carrot sticking out of the barrel… and spaghetti in the firing chamber… and what appeared to be a meatball impaled on the pistol grip. In utter frustration, Barnette loudly exhaled through gritted teeth as she awkwardly waddled through the mess to a call box and immediately dialed up the extension for the ship's security crew. She had decided to mistakenly forget informing the Captain and opted instead with a more favorable approach.

After a brief and whispered conversation, ending in the phrase, 'Seek and destroy,' Barnette stomped off in the direction of the Jacuzzi, pulling linguine out of her ample cleavage as elsewhere on the ship a young man swore out loud as he ran.

"FUUUUUUCK THIIIIIIIIS!" Keith yelled, his eyes closed, as he bounded down the hallway, pushing crewmembers out of his way. In his panic, Keith had forgotten to ditch Hibiki, who surreptitiously decided to regain consciousness at that very moment.

"What the hell? Hey, put me down, you bastard-- Ow! Ugh…" And just as quickly, he regained unconsciousness.

"This is not the time for interruptions," Keith said, gesturing with his free arm for the various females he encountered to exit his path. "Outta the way, medical emergency coming through! Which way to the infirmary?"

Following the directional pointing of the crewmembers, Keith dashed through the ship, turning corners and screaming as he ran, knowing full well how much of an idiot he was making himself appear to be. _"As long as they're confused,"_ he thought, _"I won't start to worry until I hear gunshots."_

Running up a corner staircase, Keith found himself in a familiar hallway and dashed towards what he remembered to be the dining room. Maybe it was pain dumb luck, but it was in the same instance that he approached the Trapeza that none other than the ship's nurse, Paiway, crossed his path. She had a contented look on her face, and was for some reason lovingly caressing a random camera.

"Finally, the proof I need!" Paiway stated, lifting her camera high in the air. "The greatest, most-secretive'Gotcha' shot of all time, is actually here, in this very camera! And it's mine, all mine, muahahahaha!—what the—oof!"

"Sorry 'bout this, I can pay for that, take him to doctor would ya!" was all she heard as Keith ran past her fallen form into an elevator.

Her praising suddenly cut short, the young nurse was surprised to find herself pinned to the floor by the unconscious body of Hibiki Tokai, and the contents of her camera, including its long black ribbon of film, tangled in her hair. Every last snapshot irreversibly exposed.

"NOOOOOOO!"

* * *

2:20 PM. Wednesday. 

One floor beneath Paiway's tirade, Barnette was entering her room. The long walk from Keith's room had given her time to come up with her next move, and knowing full well that the security team would have little to no trouble at all locating her prey, decided that time was too precious to waste on a bath. Need one though, she did.

After three attempts at opening her door failed, Barnette removed her chocolate-covered right glove and flung it against a wall, whereupon it immediately stuck and would probably remain so. The pilot was so focused, so unshakable in her conviction that she had failed to notice the random set of matching french-cut lingerie suspiciously piled right under her keypad as entered her code. It would have done her some good to at least have looked down, because it would have served as an excellent warning for what lay just on the other side of her door.

Or rather, for _whom _lay just on the other side of her door. Well, in any case, she would find out for herself.

Right... about...

"Welcome home, Barnette..."

...now.

The sight that greeted Barnette as her door slid open could only have been described as vintage Basil Elden. Jura Basil Elden, that is. As the grimy, food-covered girl stepped into territory she had only moments before cosidered familiar, the full impact of her co-pilot's taste attacked whatever last vestige of reality she was clinging to in desperation.

_"I thought I _changed _my code,"_ Barnette mused, as she tried with all rationality to make sense of what she was seeing.

The room was strung in garnet sashes, the color of GrandMa's birthstone. The only window in the room was completely draped in black satin, suspended from a golden curtain rod whose two ends were studded with hearts. Barnette's bedside table was draped in the same black satin, but her lamp and alarm clock had disappeared from their place on top of it. In their stead were a large white ostrich feather, several bottles containing liquids and gels of unknown composition, and what Barnette could make out as a small bowl of melted dark chocolate suspended by a wire frame over a small votive candle.

Speaking of candles, there was one other of medium size and vanilla-scented standing right by the doorway on a waist-high candle stand. Although Jura had turned the dimmer switch in the room almost completely down, Barnette could very clearly see that there were red rose petals scattered EVERYWHERE in her room; they were on the floor, on her desk, sprinkled on the hanging sashes and quite literally forming a single layer scaled crimson on her bed.

And speaking of the bed, that was where Jura lay, and but for the ridiculously moot amount of covering that the rose petals provided, she was naked as the day she was born. A grown woman of impossible nubile attractiveness sprawled nude on top Barnette's queen mattress, two locks of golden hair and a few well-placed petals representing an absolute joke as a covering. Jura had that look in her eye, the one look that only Barnette had ever seen. The green-haired pilot might have just as well been made of chocolate at that point. It would have made no difference to Jura.

The blonde aristocrat, having taken a moment to survey her target's response, gave a giggle when she saw Barnette's discheveled appearance. At length, she folded her arms across her impressive bustline, doubling her cleavage in the process, and spoke in that special little voice adults use for such situations.

"My my," she husked, "and here I thought I was the one being adventurous... Mmm, but you've certainly beat me to the punch, Barnette."

With achingly slow precision, Jura languidly raised one of her well-toned arms and brought it towards the sidetable, dipping three slender fingers into the bowl of hot, melted chocolate and bringing each to her large, red lips whereupon she licked each one clean, suggestively moaning until her digits glowed ivory in the dim candlelight.

"I would never have thought of something so creative," she purred, licking her lips, "I think you deserve a reward..."

Normally, I would have, er... Barnette would have simply dove right into the situation. Caution to the wind and all that. But tempting as the present situation was for me, er... Barnette, she knew that she had no time for a sopping wet, chocolate covered, rose petal encounter...

In lieu of a witty comeback, Barnette simply gave one request as she lay one hand on the dimmer switch and leaned in to put out the larger candle.

"Blow out the candle Jura..."

Squealing with delight, Jura did so. And was subsequently left in the dark.

"Hey, Barnette! What's the big idea, huh? Owww!" In her zeal to regain control of the situation, Jura rose a little too quickly out of the bed and, forgetting she had hidden Barnette's lamp, reached over and knocked the hot contents of the bowl all over herself. Without a single blanket to wipe her body off with, Jura quickly began an indirect process of cooling by using her tongue to lick up all of the hot chocolate that had splattered all over her nude, voluptuous form...

As the green-haired pilot brandished a clean Glock 17 that she managed to pocket as she closed the door behind her, Barnette chambered the pistol's ammo clip as several security team members piled into a nearly elevator. Sauntering over, and by this point beginning to decompose, Barnette boarded the elevator, much to the chagrin of everyone already there.

Slumping in his own elevator, Keith thought of what to do next, as an obvious bevy of questions flooded into his mind.

"So the doctor wasn't kidding," he panted, "they really are pirates! Shit! Justice in the eye of the judge, huh? Not good news for me."

Keith began wondering if he really was on the run again. There would be fewer and fewer places for him to hide now that everyone on board had seen him. They could never forgive him for attacking another crewmember. And he was certain the young man he had yet to know as Hibiki would not speak in his favor. The doctor might be able to come to his aid, if Keith were given the chance to explain, but now that the infirmary would most likely be sealed off, he could never get to speak to Duelo again.

Where could he go? How does one hide in the house of his enemy?

"Seek higher ground."

Absentmindedly, Keith looked in all directions. There was no way he heard that. It must be a side-effect of his extreme hunger, he deduced. Maybe if things cool down a little, he could have another chat with that redhead concerning the meal she owes him.

"Seek higher ground."

"Another mindfuck!" Keith told himself, crouching into a corner with his knees tucked into his chest. The young man surmised that he really, really, must be hungry if his hallucinations were becoming this insistent. Hell, he'd gone without eating before, but if this is considered a consequence, maybe a mid-morning snack isn't really such a bad idea.

"Seek higher ground, I said."

"Who the fuck is that?" Keith demanded, standing.

"Oh, so now you admit that you hear me? Finally, it was like to talking to myself, for a minute."

"Who are you?" Keith repeated, warily eyeing the four walls of the elevator to find any suspicious reflective surfaces, or round holes.

"Come now, how can you be so unfamiliar? We've met before, Keith Riley Greers."

"I don't recall ever exchanging acquaintances with a hallucination, before!" the young accused this voice, cursing his stupidity as he did so. This was arguably the most ridiculous conversation (?) he had ever engaged in. But this strange, articulate, and older sounding voice had just used his name. That fact alone made Keith curious.

"I can assure you that there will be time for introductions later, young man, but for now let us focus on your problem... you seek a means of concealment? Of escape?"

"Yes," Keith conceded. This was getting fishier by the minute. Any second now, he was going to suffer an aneurysm. He was actually negotiating with a disembodied voice... but all he wanted was to maintain his freedom. For that, there was no unworthy sacrifice. If it meant a chance of escaping, he would negotiate as long as was needed.

"Activate the switch for floor 23. You will come to another hallway; it will be empty. Walk to the end door and enter the code 99344 on the access keypad... when you enter that door, we shall speak again."

"How do I know this isn't some kind of trap?" Keith accused, pressing the button as was commanded. There was a pause, and for a moment, Keith despaired that perhaps it was just an hallucinatory voice, until it responded to him, this time serious, devoid of any humor whatsoever.

"No trap, Mr. Greers, I assure you. There are a great many questions you may feel compelled to ask; you shall have your answers... after I have mine," the voice challenged.

"If this isn't a trap, then at least tell me where I'm going, what you would have me do," Keith demanded, pushing his glasses onto his nose. Another silence passed, and Keith could only watch as the elevator continued to climb, ticking off floors as he surpassed each one. When he reached floor 23, the elevators slid open and as promised, Keith stepped, although cautiously, into a deserted hallway. The young man wound his way around the corridor, passing the same white doors that he had seen all throughout the ship. When he reached largest door at the end of the hallway, he entered the code as was asked of him.

"Well," he challenged, "here I am. You mind answering my question from before?" As the huge door lifted into place Keith found himself staring into a large open theatre of a room.

The lack of light and dust buiildup told him that this room had gone largely untended when in comparison to everywhere else on the ship. Mostly empty, and too dark to foster curiosity as much as wariness, Keith found himself walking away from the room until the voice from earlier returned. Instinctively, Keith found a master switch against the door and brought the room to full light.

Large metal gangways and staircases crisscrossed high into the ceiling of the room. A hundred yards or so towards the back Keith noticed another door with what seemed to be motorized track running the length of the floor directly up to the door. On the right and left sides of the room stood four large humanoid forms, two on either side and each covered with a large canvas tarp.

Cautiously, the young man allowed his curiosity to overtake him and despite his better judgment, Keith grabbed approached one statue, and grabbing the tarp with both hands, proceeded to walk backwards slowly until the drop cloth peeled completely away from what it covered. Standing roughly 30 feet tall, and still clad in its factory-finished silver, Keith gaped of the symbol of Tarak's mighty military prowess, a type 1 model of the Tsukumo Version Van-type fighter.

Placing a hand on its cold steel skin, Keith stood in awe of how ancient he really felt._ "So the future really does have giant robots," _he mused. Suddenly, as if by some strange, unheard command, the sound of robotic articulation filled the room as the Van-type's single eye flashed on and the craft itself seemed to kneel down on its left knee as a strange set of doors opened a gaping chasm in its torso whereupon a set of lights flickered on to reveal a human-sized seat where its heart would have been, anatomically. What more appropriate moment could there have been for the strange voice to once again fill Keith's ears.

"This is the Van-type hangar, Mr. Greers," the voice began. "It is in here that you will face your first test."

* * *

1.) my apologies for the delay, but suffice it to say that were... compounded obstacles that prevented this update from taking place sooner. 

2.) as i mentioned earlier, the immediate chapter after this was finished far in the past. i could have put it up with this one, but... come on, this is me we're talking about here.

3.) having read through two of the longest reviews i have ever received as a writer, i feel compelled to address a few things, so bear with me, but i feel this is necessary.

-when i created the idea of this fic, it was my intention to try and develop something that i felt i would enjoy reading as a fan. my own spin from the beginning, had always been to include a new character, a new dynamic, another viewpoint, and a foil for the other characters. i spent two months prior to even writing a single plotline just on developing keith. everything that he has been, that he is, and that he will be has been predetermined. i will not change my mold for him, because i believe in his place in this story. i cannot say for certain that none of who i am is exhibited in keith. all i can really promise you all is a good story with a good character. as for the details, i invite you all to think as you wish... that's what makes this site so freaking beautiful.

-i have never addressed an individual reviewer or reviewers directly. i have always considered it rude to place a person on the spot... in print. being robbed of your ability to speak in your defense is absolutely unfair, and so i have never dropped a name. but i feel in this instance, i have been given no choice. truevandreadfan07. thank you for your review. i consider it a pat on the back to be left a review so gargantuan as yours, but upon reading it, i found that you had used my story as a platform to flame another author. please do pardon my forwardness but i simply cannot abide this. if there is a pre-existing conflict between yourself and Mr. E Sparc, i urge you please to take steps in resolving it. call it what you wish, but it all boils down simple abuse. i could have been reported for that flame. i cannot and will not be forced to take sides in a conflict that i want no part of. if you continue to use my story as a springboard for abuse, i will not hesitate to delete every review you leave, anonymous or otherwise. please do not make me deny your opinion.

4.) again to all you of, please pardon the delay. there will be more of a rhythm once i settle into a routine.

5.) thank you all for your support thus far. i write only for you, and for me, that's enough.

6.) please review on your way out. until next time, happy reading to you.


	8. the calm before the storm

Disclaimer: I do not own Vandread. All I own is what's obviously mine.

2:30 PM. Wednesday.

"Van… type?" Keith asked, rolling the unknown word around in his mouth as though he had bitten into an apple he knew was past its prime. Whatever his logic told him, he knew instinctively that he was in a situation which would be difficult to grasp. Once again, he placed a hand on the strange machine and trembled when he realized a faint vibratory hum pulsed through it.

As ridiculous as he knew it sounded, he had to admit that the machine seemed… alive, and… more ridiculous... aware of him.

The machine's lone eye, placed dead-center in its box-like head glowed bright blue in its unblinking stare. It knelt on its left knee, with its left arm fully supported on it. Its right hand and arm was stretched outward in an offering manner, leveled directly at Keith's feet, palm turned up.

And then, of course, most difficult to ignore, was the cockpit, the hatch of which jutted slightly out of the craft's torso, various lights and screens glowed a myriad of colors against the black headrest of the pilot seat. It seemed to give off an air of trepidation, and Keith, for good reason, suddenly experienced what he was sure was the same fear he felt when his father took him for his first haircut.

He remembered the apprehension, as any five year-old would, when he first entered the barber shop, cold nervousness slipping into his tiny fingers for the first time as the portly barber deftly swung the chair around and engaged its hydraulic release. The daunting seat then let out a great whoosh of air as it descended to its lowest height, ready and willing to gobble up whatever small child happened to be nearby and stupid enough to accept its invitation for a seat.

However, having well put that event in his past, Keith merely ignored this fear; tucking it safely in the back of his mind and trusted in his conviction not to have it distract him again. If only to change the subject, he took a step backwards from the machine, crossed his arms and decided to try to force some answers from his "helping hand."

"Well," he began, "this is a …Van-type, correct?"

"Correct Mr. Greers, the very pride and joy of Tarak's first assault military," the voice answered, cool and emotionless.

"You mentioned a test," Keith poked. "I assume you don't mean a blood test."

A few nervous moments passed, and Keith could have almost heard the faintest wisps of laughter emanating from the shadows around him. He began to consider that perhaps this mystery figure was somewhere in that very hangar. Subconsciously, he glanced all around without turning his head, paranoid about being watched.

"Your skills of perception speak beyond your experience, Mr. Greers," was the response. "Of course, I did not mean a blood test."

Sneering openly at the condescension, Keith pointed an accusatory finger at the Vanguard, plainly expressing his dislike of being manipulated.

"And I don't suppose this thing is some kind of giant blood pump," he said.

"Again, you thrall me with your acumen, Mr. Greers," echoed the voice's retort, cold and analytical.

In the background, the faint humming of the Vanguard's circuitry cut through the eerie stillness of the hangar. Unbeknownst to Keith, however, someone had taken advantage of the open hangar door, and was positioning herself amid the shadows, slowly making her way towards the young man. From her point of view, Meia could not distinguish or identify the person Keith was apparently talking to. However, that little detail ceased to be relevant when she took note of the fact that the young man had somehow activated a Vanguard.

"Then enough with the games, already," Keith demanded. "What kind of test do you have in mind, and what does this thing have to do with it?"

"Simply put, Mr. Greers, I was being vague." At this, Keith rolled his eyes. "In truth, you are the test; consider this Van-type as merely your… Number 2 pencil."

"Well, I guess I'm a lot more old-fashioned than I thought because," the young man moved towards the robot again, this time giving it firm kick in its arm, "this don't look like any Number 2 pencil I've ever seen before."

Meia charged her laser ring and continued to move closer, more and more of Keith's conversation becoming easier to hear. Easier to understand, however, it did not become. When she was about 50 feet away from him she finally brought her right arm to its killing posture and she began the familiar mental debate over which vital area to aim for. Her advance was cut short however, when Keith suddenly turned in her direction, but she stayed hidden enough for him not to see her.

"If you ask me, that little chair apparatus makes this look more like a fucking vehicle," he accused, pointing behind him, "and if what you have in mind for me is some kinda test drive, you can forget it; I was never given a study guide… and anyway I don't have my permit yet."

"Correct and more correct, Mr. Greers," said the voice. "This is a vehicle, and it is also, in fact, my intention to test your ability in various combat situations."

Finally making progress with the conversation, Keith confirmed his suspicions and crossed his arms again. This time, however, he leaned back against the Vanguard, smiling to demonstrate his change of mindset. The prospect, he admitted, did sound really cool. Piloting a giant robot? Somewhere, deep down in his subconscious mind, a very small child in a t-shirt, with red sneakers jumped up and down so fiercely, his little eyeglasses slid down his face.

"Okay, I won't deny that what you've asked me to do is kind of appealing to the kid in me." Keith took a very jealous glance at the Vanguard, licking his lips as he spoke. "But I'd like to think that I've come a long way since I was five and that other things matter more to me these days, you know, like living a long time, so… as much as it pains me to say this, I have to decline your offer for a test."

Then came a pause so long that Keith felt he could trace the air currents moving throughout the hangar. Meia took this moment to contemplate calling for help. If indeed the young man was conversing with someone, maybe she was getting in over her head. Unfortunately, before she could bring her communicator up to bear, she heard Keith resume his dialogue. She made her final decision on the question by raising her ring hand again, this time, vowing not to lower it again.

"Is that so, Mr. Greers?"

"I'm afraid it is, Mr.-- uh, now that I think of it, exactly what should I call you," Keith wondered, scratching his head, "do you have a name, or will 'Mr. Voice' suffice?"

"For the time being, you can call me Eugene… and I suppose it would be fitting for me to refer to you as Mr. Chickenshit."

"You wanna run that by me again?" Keith asked, barely letting the insult graze across his ears. He would ignore it, but he wouldn't forget it.

"I am quite certain you heard me the first time, Mr. Chickenshit," pressed the strange voice.

It drilled daggers into his ego, but Keith knew it was pointless to fight against an opponent he could not even confront, much less see or identify. At length, he took a few deep breaths and continued demonstrating his self-control. He was winning, or so he told himself.

"Listen, I've been called a whole lot of different names, many worst than chickenshit, since way before I ever met you… Eugene!" he scoffed. "If you think that I'm shallow enough of a person to be drawn into your game by some inane ruse like name-calling, then it seems you don't me very--"

"Fine, then, you are a coward… and a midget," Eugene interrupted.

"…"

"Where're the keys to this piece a' shit?"

"My! Where did this sudden surge of enthusiasm come from?" asked the voice, teasing the young man ever-so-slightly.

"JUST… tell me what to do," replied Keith, his voice uncharacteristically cold.

"For now… simply climb into the glowing chair." Keith complied, muttering under his breath, "said the spider to the fly."

Climbing onto the four-fingered hand of the silver robot, Keith was poised to simply jump into the cockpit, but before he realized it, the Vanguard started to move of its own accord. It lifted its arm off of the floor and brought it up to the torso, much to the young man's surprise. The feeling of a trap becoming more obvious, Keith settled himself into the pilot's chair regardless, momentarily flinching from the cold metal and leather before sliding the safety belts over his shoulders and strapping his waist onto the chair.

Watching Keith enter the Vanguard, Meia quickly closed the distance and stood directly in front of the robot, leveling her aim to shoot at a spot that would just get the young man's attention.

"Okay, I'm in; now what?" Keith asked, to no one in particular.

"Get out of the Vanguard and put your hands on your head!" rang out a clear, angry female voice.

A year before, a month before, Keith would have been caught off-guard. Indeed, before the past few weeks, he had no experience being held at gun-point, or being shot at. Maybe that was what made him normal. For better or for worse, however, he was changed eternally upon boarding the Nirvana. It was on this ship, in the course of 24 hours, that the mystique and the fear of guns, including direct contact with them, disintegrated completely for Keith. There could only one person on board who just uttered that phrase, and quite frankly, he was in no mood.

"Oh, come on!" he complained. "Is that you again, Barnette? If it is, I'll tell you right now that this is beginning to get old alrea--"

"Wrong," came Meia's response, which followed a warning shot from her ring… right between his knees.

"Jeez!" he yelped. "What was that for; are you trying to kill me?" Genuinely confused, Meia decided to pay Keith back for her earlier embarrassment… by teasing him.

"I don't see what you mean, even if I wanted that last shot to connect, it wouldn't have been fatal," she said.

"Oh believe me, fatal or not, if that connected, there would be no reason for me to live," Keith responded, trying to re-swallow his beating heart back into place.

"Are you talking about that antenna you males possess?" Meia asked. "I wasn't aware that was one of your vital parts… maybe I'll keep that in mind for future reference."

It was at this moment that Keith realized he was being toyed with, and began trying to hold his own in this exchange, by teasing Meia's lack of knowledge about male physiology. "Antenna? How old are you again, four, five?"

"I just turned 19, for your information, and I don't take kindly to being insulted!" Meia retorted, truly incensed at the jab to her pride. She recharged her ring and brought it back to firing posture, drilling parallel holes into Keith's eyes and taking him down a peg.

"Okay, okay, I get it; you're the boss, all right? You are the boss," Keith conceded, raising his hands in surrender. Meia was no fool, and she regarded Keith with the utmost caution. Something told her the young man was stalling and she knew time was critical.

"Stop talking, just hurry up and get out of the vehicle," Meia said. "I'm sure the Captain will have no difficulty believing you're a spy, once she finds out you tried to steal a Vanguard."

Her suspicions were well-founded, as even as they spoke, Keith was conducting a telepathic conference with Eugene. Unbeknownst to her, the young man was secretly following a series of commands from the disembodied voice with regard to the operation of the Vanguard. However, flight preparations in such a complex craft were so difficult to explain that Eugene demanded a concerted effort from Keith to stall Meia simultaneously.

"Vanguard… oh is that what this is?" Keith asked, letting down his hands. "I thought it was a simulator ride, you know, a video game?"

"_Charge the propulsion nacelles by bumping your elbow against glowing red switch."_

"_Okay, no prob-- what? Are you still on about that asinine test?" _Keith asked._ "In case you hadn't noticed, she's pointing a fucking laser ring at me!"_

"_An unfortunate turn of events to be sure, but not enough to deter us," _Eugene stated, as Keith activated the attitude controls._ "In fact, we should consider this to be… a sort of bonus challenge."_

* * *

In another part of the ship, an elevator fully loaded with women had begun its journey towards floor 23. Situated amidst the muscular security team members, and still a relative mess from the food mishap from before, Barnette discussed intel while the larger women cracked knuckles shielded by their signature white gloves.

By mobilizing these individuals, Barnette had internally admitted her inability to handle one short male by herself, even with her guns. Being the fiercest anti-male advocate on board the ship, she garnered a reputation for her aggressive personality, as well as the razor-sharp tongue that enforced it. Needless to say, she had her fair share of enemies on board. Unfortunately for her, she was surrounded by an elevator full of them.

"All right, surveillance shows he went into one of the rear elevator shafts, which means he's headed to the old male section of the ship."

"We do we know about him?" asked a blonde rear guard, Pauline.

"Didn't you hear, he made Barnette here his little bitch!" said a brunette point guard, Jacqueline.

"No kidding, a male huh?" chimed Pauline. "And I thought you pilots were supposed to be tough, Barnette! I guess that gun fetish of yours really is just for show then."

Barnette clenched her teeth as hard as she clenched her fists, but she said nothing, did nothing except tried to keep her composure. All the while, the grinning women around the girl relished this rare opportunity to knock the resident dominatrix down a few pegs. At least that's how it was at first…

"Yeah! Just goes to show you don't send a little girl to do a real woman's job!"

"What was the damage, again, Barnette, a sprained wrist?" jabbed Jacqueline, mockingly massaging Barnette's shoulders. "Aw, poor baby, does that mean you can't use your little pea-shooters anymore?"

"Yeah, you pilots may be hotshots in your Dreads, but face to face, I guess you really are just a bunch of princesses, huh?"

"Hey, wait ladies," Pauline continued, "Barnette wasn't the only squad member taken out by this male… apparently he worked over Meia pretty good, too!"

"No shit! The Leader, huh?" answered Jacqueline, continuing the dialogue. "Well, that's actually a little surprising… I hear Meia was quite the fighter down in the Abandoned Zone."

At this point, the two guards pretended to ignore Barnette as they engaged in a conversation that seemingly had nothing to do with her. In truth, she was just an easy target: their animosity was actually aimed at every pilot on board. For the longest time, the Captain had regarded the Dread team with the highest favor, as they were always the first on scene in an ambush, and always the first to board upon a successful incursion. They trained the most often, were given the most resources, and in general, were held high among their autocracy as the primary military force representative of Magno Vivan's pirate crew.

Naturally, the opportunity for dissent was expected, and it needed only the seeds of jealousy to spring from.

"So what? Like that's something to be proud of," testified a green-haired guard. "That's like saying she's the smartest kid in a class of retards!"

Although that last jab did not concern Barnette in the least, she still went into a fit of angered trembling; this was simply not the time for her to put up with bullying. She would be strong, unfazed, and as rock-solid as she was always known to have been. The young lady was hanging on by the barest thread, but so help her, she would continue to hold.

"Welll don't you worry none, sweetie-pie," said another guard, as the entire elevator erupted in laughter. "We'll spank this big, bad male but good, so you and your little pilot friends won't wet your beds at night!"

Despite her best efforts, the events of the previous weeks: the consecutive failures regarding Keith, her degrading simulator scores, the possible dissolution of her relationship with Jura; everything… all of it seemed to be collapsing around her. If she could only recover her wounded honor, maybe then… maybe then everything could go back to the way it was.

But they were right! These gorillas had managed to burrow into the insecurity that she tried so hard to hide. Only Meia knew of this side of Barnette, as kindred spirits tend to draw to one another. Now, of all times, her defenses were failing.

"Yeah, maybe you should sit this one out, ya know?" chided Jacqueline, ready to deliver the final blow. "Paint your toenails, shine your guns, or play your little simulator games with your other friends--"

Before the Neanderthal could finish her sentence, Barnette had dashed out of the elevator, head hung low, with a free hand over her eyes and face. Back inside the elevator, the security crew prepared for the mission ahead, feigning ignorance as to the distraught girl's condition.

"No dice, huh?"

"Aw you went and hurt her feelings, Jacqueline!"

"Ah, she'll get over it!" the blonde answered, her voice lacking any jest. "Besides, I'm not about to let that pair a' tits in purple leather embarrass us again."

"That's right, for all her tough talk, she actually let a midget male get the best of her."

"We won't be made fools of so easily, right?"

"Right! We're the best, Mejerr's finest!" came the chorus. "We'll show this whole ship of females just who the alpha-bitches are!"

"YEAH!"

"And it starts with that male!" called Pauline, pumping her bowling ball of a fist.

"YEAH!"

* * *

Buzam Calessa was never really one for walks. Indeed, she was never one for anything not having to do with her duties as Commander. However, by the Captain's orders, she was required to devote at least two hours daily to relaxation.

Not wanting to leave herself too preoccupied with an actual activity, she reduced her list of hobbies to walking and observing. It was during one of these leisurely strolls that she happened to spy a rather filthy-looking Barnette exiting an elevator. Immediately resolved to scolding the Dread pilot, B.C. took pause to notice that the girl in purple looked uncharacteristically distraught.

"Barnette?" B.C. called out to no avail. She was not sure if Barnette had not heard her or did not care, but one look at the elevator's other occupants ignited some questions in the first mate's mind.

"Was that a security crew?" she wondered. Retrieving a communicator from her pocket, she decided to embark on a fit of what she was best at: meddling.

"Surveillance, this is Buzam."

"What can we do for you, ma'am?"

"Give me the destination for elevator 33-7."

A slight pause followed as the operator nervously tried to work as quickly as she could, so as not to displease her Commander with excess waiting. Strangely enough, her efforts were backfiring, and in her nervousness she found her fingers slipping on once-familiar keystrokes, resulting, ironically, in delays.

"Tracking indicates that it's headed for floor 23," she answered. "Shall I patch you to the car, ma'am?"

B.C. had no need or desire to speak to the security crew. Their destination, however, seemed much more interesting. In fact, if memory served her correctly, floor 23 was where the crew had decided to store the…

"No thank you, do you have surveillance installed in the old Vanguard hangar?" B.C. asked, herself walking towards the bridge. Maybe her fears were unfounded; it was probably nothing… right?

"I'm afraid not ma'am, but general scans show two life forms are currently inside there," came the response. "One of them corresponds to Meia Gisborne's tracking signature."

"And the other?" B.C. pressed, now very interested in this development. What the operator said next would determine the Commander's following set of moves.

"Not on record... but the power grid reports that one of the Vanguards has disconnected from the master charge circuit."

And the fuse was lit…

"Patch me through to the communicator in room 187."

"I'm sorry ma'am, but that room is currently unoccupied--"

"I know that. The transfer of the occupant was made only recently, so it's not record yet, but I need to talk to him regardless."

On the other end of the line, the operator was herself becoming quite excited, as not only was the Commander actually talking to her, but it seemed like something was really going on. Biting her lip, she thought carefully about her next phrase as well as how to phrase it.

"You don't understand me ma'am; what I meant to say was that there was no one in the room… the door keypad reads 'open,' and there are no detectable life signs within."

B.C. stopped mid-stride and suddenly turned back to the elevators. Furrowing her brows into her signature business scowl, nearby crewmembers made an effort to simply keep a safe distance. Unless they were directly addressed, of course.

"I changed my mind," B.C. said. "Go ahead and stop elevator 33-7. And lock down the Vanguard hangar on floor 23; I want it completely sealed off."

Now running, B.C. made a quick plan to rally Gascogne and her stagehands.

* * *

Several corridors away, in a dark, cold room, a young girl stood at what seemed to be a crossroads. Barnette was trembling, uncontrollably trembling. She thought she was close to crying, but once was alone, the tears simply would not come. She wanted to cry, and even knew that she needed to, but now her stubborn pride would not allow it. So she stood there and trembled, praying for tears, until her anger overtook her.

"Useless, useless!" she spat, throwing her handgun across the room. "Am I really so helpless, do I matter so little without these weapons?"

Collapsing onto her knees she laid her head on her bed, hands in her hair, and disgust filling her thoughts, mostly at herself. There could not have been a worse time for someone to barge into her comfort zone, especially if that someone was well aware of what Barnette's comfort zone was. True to her luck, Barnette's door broke into light knocking and who more fitting do the barging than…

"Yoo-hoo, Barnette! It's your shining star, Jura, here to make her grand debut! And I've come to visit you while I'm at it."

"Go away."

Outside Barnette's door, the voluptuous blonde flinched at the silent misery those two words carried. She knew well about this misery, as she felt it herself by watching her soulmate suffer quietly in her own little hell. Jura had been trying her best to turn her fellow pilot around. Now she had reached the point where her regular tactics had not only failed, but were starting to bring her down as well. The happier a face she put forth for Barnette, the sadder it made her to fail. She was ready now to put aside the sunshine and sugar. It was time to not only rescue her best friend, but she was ready to put herself on the line to do so.

"Oh, now that's no way to greet your beloved," Jura answered, casually wiping away a stray tear. "I've just come back from a successful meeting with my squad, and now that my regular duties are done, I thought we'd spend some time together."

"I'm not in the mood, Jura."

The quickness of her depressing answers troubled the blonde. Barnette couldn't be this far down the spiral, could she?

"Come now, I know you don't mean that… you've had a bad day, right?" offered Jura. "I know of a few ways to turn your mood around!"

"I said I wasn't in the mood and I meant it Jura, now GO AWAY!"

At this, Jura herself collapsed at Barnette's door, her head leaning heavily against it, with the first few sobs breaking through her defenses. There really was no other way around it, it seemed. Now was the time to act like a woman. This was the part Jura had wanted to avoid. And that fact was reflected in what she said next.

"Don't do this, Barnette, please don't push me away," Jura begged, one hand against the door, with the other above her heart. "I know things have been difficult; we're all trying our hardest to make the best of what we all know is a potentially hopeless situation. I know you're in pain, Barnette, but I want you to know that I am too."

Indescribable suffering erupted in Barnette's chest. At that moment, she felt like molten iron was being poured through her veins. Her face twisted in agony, the young girl crawled to her door, yet found no strength to open it. Instead, she found herself leaning against the door, with her hand across her heart; an almost perfect mirror image of the blonde on the other side. Every breath of air turned to ash inside her chest. She wanted to disintegrate and simply disappear forever.

"I would never want for you to experience something like on my part… I'm not that important of a person."

"What are you talking about, silly? Of course you are." Although she would have denied, Jura was crying, really, truly crying. That knowledge stole all the words from Barnette's short-term memory.

"…"

"Because… you're my shining star, too, Barnette," Jura whispered, between quiet sobs. "And so long as that's true, I can't help but needing you, can't help but wanting to see you, can't help but bothering you."

"…"

"Good-bye."

In an instant, adrenaline gave Barnette just enough strength to reach up and unlock her door, while the last of energy was spent in calling out the name of the woman who, at that moment, was more important to her than any other. She had literally nothing left within her, and even as the door slid open, Barnette lacked any strength to catch herself from falling hard onto the cold floor and shattering.

"Jura! Wait, I--"

But she did not fall. She did not even lean forward. For when the door opened, what she felt was a source of warmth that not only caught her, but carried her as well. It held her, surrounded her, and replenished all the strength she thought she lost. Barnette could not believe it. Jura was still there.

"There's my beautiful Barnette."

"You didn't leave," Barnette whispered, her eyes as wide as suns, while the tears she prayed for streamed unabashedly down her cheeks. "I'm so happy you didn't leave."

"Of course I didn't," Jura answered, stroking Barnette's grimy green locks as though they were the finest silk strands. "And I never will… just promise me… you won't leave me either."

"I promise, Jura." Barnette answered, now openly weeping as bitterly as she had never allowed herself to. "I promise, I promise, I promise, I promise, Jura, I'll never leave you."

They knelt there, in the doorway, clutching each other, keeping one another from collapsing. They shared their tears, they shared their pain. Jura had saved her beloved. Barnette no longer trembled.

* * *

"You're stalling now; I'm not sure what it is you were planning, but now I'm only too happy to have interrupted you."

In the dimly lit hangar on floor 23 of the Nirvana the second standoff between Meia Gisborne and Keith Greers had reached an impasse. Meia kept her ring trained at Keith's head while her target watched her movements.

"Planning? You think I have some kind of ulterior motive here?" asked the young man, eyeing the older woman. "Do you honestly believe that your bitter enemies would send a kid to try and sabotage a pirate ship?"

"I'm not even going to pretend that I know how the male psyche works," Meia replied, grinning at the strange confession. "What I do know is that all of you should be taken with the utmost caution."

Keith, feeling defensive, and needing more time to stall, tried turning the tables by working Meia's faulty logic against her.

"And what about Duelo, huh?" he asked, keeping silent dialogue with Eugene. "Despite the fact that he is not only a male, but a confirmed graduate of Tarak's military academy, you would allow him access to the physiologies of every female on board, even Ezra who's especially vulnerable? That sounds awful hypocritical to me!"

"I haven't come to trust the doctor completely," Meia answered, seeing through the ruse. She didn't like her mind being probed, so, remembering her early victory, she decided to try and pester Keith some more. "And even then, he is a different case from you: he's already started to prove himself a useful asset on our journey, the circumstances of which demand that we collaborate… you, however, have only proven that you possess skills in infiltration, subterfuge, weapons proficiency and close quarters combat."

"Oh, now that's not fair, I--"

"Add to that an unknown past and background, and to top it all off… well, here we are, in the Vanguard hangar, with you caught in the act of requisitioning one."

By this point, Keith had shut up, absolutely conceding defeat. He knew when he was one-upped, and besides, the Vanguard was almost ready to launch, according to his friendly neighborhood disembodied voice.

"Based on those facts alone, how else should I interpret your presence here?" Meia asked.

"Uh… well shit, when you put it that way, it really does make me look like a spy, huh?" Keith replied sheepishly. On the surface, it seemed like was beaten, and in a way, he was. But this defeat gave him a chance at stalling through a new tactic: ego stroking. Unfortunately for him, Meia kept pace and saw right through the ruse. Despite herself, Meia was starting to enjoy the game of wits, however.

"Hm. Well if that isn't a confession…" she sassed, grinning. "I'll say it only once more: exit the vehicle as a living being, or be dragged out as dead weight."

Keith could sense that this time was the last time. Now would have been a good moment for Eugene to chime in with some good news. True to his luck, the same voice rang through loud and clear.

"_Alright, systems are a-go." _Eugene echoed._ "Fuel cells charged, shields at maximum, and I confirm 100 percent response time in articulation."_

"_Well, at least things are going well for one of us…"_

"_Are you ready to begin, Mr. Greers?" _Eugene asked.

"_I've hit all the switches you lit up for me… whatever it is you want, you'd better tell me to do it quick, I don't think she's in the mood to flirt for much longer."_

"_You should create a diversion, and when you see your opportunity, hit the center switch to seal the cockpit."_

"_Shall I dress in drag and do the hula?" _Keith asked, looking away from Meia as the suggestion tickled him internally.

"_No need to be so theatrical, Mr. Greers," _Eugene replied_. "If you use that idea, you may end up seducing her…"_

"_That's a shame,"_ said Keith, dead-panned._ "I've been told I can hula with the best of them; oh well, I guess I'll have to use plan B."_

"_You think well under pressure, Mr. Greers; perhaps with some luck, you just might pass this test."_

"_There you go again about the damn test, would you stop with the mind games already and just cut to the--"_

Three bright beams cut across Keith's field of vision, charring holes at different places near his body and ending his sentence abruptly.

"I'm sick of waiting! Come out now, or the next shot won't miss."

Before raising his hands again, Keith managed to untie the laces on his right shoe. He re-established eye contact as quickly as he could, so as to divert Meia's gaze. This had to be perfect, because, as he insisted... it was brilliant.

"All right, I guess you and I have both had enough foreplay, so maybe it's time we finally get to-- OH, MY GOD! What's that over there?"

"Huh? What the-- Ow!" Meia doubled over and quickly addressed the sting at the center of her face. With her gaze thrown upon the floor, she saw what struck her and immediately spun around in anger… only to be brought face to face with the large, cerulean eye of a Type 1 Tsukumo Version Van-type Fighter. Keith was nowhere to be seen, but his voice boomed throughout the hangar from within the giant robot.

"See ya!"

Inside the mecha Keith fumbled around in the cockpit as Eugene briefly went over the controls of the craft, along with other basics. The voice also took this moment to complain to the young man about his tactics.

"_So that was your brilliant plan B, the old draw-her-attention-elsewhere-and-throw-a-shoe-at-her-face-trick?"_

"_I'm a man of simplicity, Eugene, and you just can't beat the classics! Now what's next?" _Keith asked, centering himself in the chair as he took hold of steering apparatus.

"_Move the Van-type into the slingshot platform, and I'll start the launch sequence."_

Upon checking his rear-view monitor, Keith spied a glance at Meia taking pot shots at him with her laser ring.

"_Whoa! She's persistent, huh?"_ reflected Keith, raising the shields to maximum._ "How much time, Eugene.?"_

"_Launching in t-minus 15 seconds… how do you feel, Mr. Greers?"_

This was the question that Keith could not answer, because, quite frankly, he could not say. And maybe, he wondered, that in itself was a feeling.

"_Despite everything else, pretty comfortable, actually."_ Keith answered._ "I can't really explain it, but I'm caught between the nervousness of never having done this before, and somehow, the comfortable rush of having done it before... I guess I really don't know how I feel."_

"_Then the connection is secure."_

At that moment, the entire hangar was racked by a huge tremor as the booms of external explosions rang through the air like echoing claps of thunder. Everyone on board took notice, and past experience kicked in for certain people like Meia, who instinctively made her way to the bridge. Within the platinum giant, a young man sat quietly amidst its innards as questions mingled with uncertainty.

"_Whoa… what was that?" _he asked_. "Was that you Eugene? And what's with the center monitor, why are all these weird graphics coming up?"_

"_Your test administrators are here sooner than expected."_

* * *

Within an elevator rushing for the same floor as the bridge, B.C. opened a channel to all communicators, and with the same even tone she always used, made the following announcement:

"Enemy Attack! All crew report to battle stations! Dread Team, scramble! Doctor, have the infirmary on stand-by; Bart, start plotting an escape route, I'm on my way to the bridge."

Rudely disturbed from within the only place where he had some measure of peace and quiet, Bart woke up with his usual bright and cheery demeanor. The stark-naked helmsman stretched himself lucid and adopted his familiar steering posture as he took command of the ship's navigation controls.

"Man, I can never catch a break!" he complained. "I was having such a nice dream, too."

After making her general announcement, B.C. replaced the communicator and leaned against the back of the elevator, making a mental note to complain to Parfet about the speed of the elevators. Just at that moment, her elevator stopped, much to her chagrin, and in walked none other than Meia. Whether they were caught in their own plans, or simply respecting the seriousness of the moment, neither spoke until they exited the elevator and began sprinting side by side. Only when they were about to part ways did Meia give her report concerning Keith, the lateness of which annoyed her Commander.

"B.C., we have a security breach," Meia calmly stated between gasps. "That new male just hijacked a Vanguard!"

"And you never called for help?" The Dread Team Leader wasn't expecting to reprimanded, so she could only answer with a poor excuse.

"Well, I thought I could handle him on my own, so I didn't think--" And B.C. reamed her for such a weakness.

"Exactly! You didn't think! When you have an entire ship ready to assist you, wouldn't it be considered wise to request some assistance?"

"Yes, ma'am." Meia replied without even parting her teeth. She knew B.C. wasn't genuinely angry and that she herself was at fault for not following through with protocol.

"You keep that in mind and come back to your senses! You're no superhero, Meia, you're a leader of a team, and I need you to remember that both and out of the cockpit… now get to your Dread and lead us in defense!"

"Yes ma'am!" the young affirmed, with a firm nod before continuing down a hallway that diverted B.C.'s path. When the pilot was well away, the Commander retrieved her own communicator and continued to multitask even as she ran for the bridge.

"Surveillance! Did you manage to lock down the Vanguard hangar, what's going on down there?"

"Our feed to level 23 has been disconnected: we can't tell what's happening, Commander!"

"You're telling me that our control to an entire floor has been overridden?" B.C. asked, obviously annoyed. The implications were, after all, impossible.

"Yes ma'am."

"Well, fix it!" Immediately patching into another channel, she contacted the ship's most logical department. At that time, she was also convinced that it was the only logical department.

"Engineering! This is Buzam; I want a reboot of all the electronic systems on level 23 now! I know it's disconnected, but I don't care, whatever it takes, I want to regain control of this ship!"

"It's back on Commander, we've just re-established contact with level 23: surveillance, life support, auxiliary power, everything has been returned to its original programming."

"So we have control of that level again?" "W_asn't it just disconnected 30 seconds ago?"_

"Yes ma'am, we've retaken control," came the matter-of-fact response. B.C. knew better than to take this news at face value.

"You mean we've been relinquished control," she concluded_. "Something just powered down and disabled an entire section of the ship, and then gives it back to us after 30 seconds; does no one else find that a little weird?"_

"Uh, I suppose that's a way of putting it ma'am."

B.C. opened the access door that led her onto the command deck, and taking her place amid the other bridge bunnies, continued her conversation with Engineering, all the while monitoring the battle on the main screen. Much to her relief, the Dreads had finally made their appearance on the battlefield, taking formation before accelerating to attack speed against the familiar cube and x-type Harvester fighters. This she watched with rapt attention while she kept up communication with Engineering.

"Tell me what's changed down there? What's different from yesterday in that hangar?" she asked, the Captain suddenly taking interest in what could possibly have diverted her first mate's attention during a battle. Magno was right to wonder, as the next bit of news succeeded in distracting her as well.

"One of the Vanguards is unaccounted for, Commander," reported an Engineer, almost apologetically. "It isn't showing on any of tracking systems, because we never uploaded its information, or gave it a homing beacon."

Placing a hand on a radar panel, the Nirvana's silver-haired icon silently cursed as sweat began forming on her weathered brow.

"Perfect. Just perfect."

* * *

Hovering in the vacuum of space, just a few hundred meters away from the open hangar doors from which it sprung, a lone white Vanguard, no more special than any other that rolled off the assembly line, was poised for battle. Its controller, however, was another matter.

"_I am sorry that there is no piloting gear for you, Mr. Greers,"_ Eugene apologized._ "It seems the mighty Tarak war machine has no belief in helmets."_

"_Oh, shit, you're telling me there's a space battle out here, aren't you?"_

Indeed, he drifted alongside the Nirvana in an area far away from the battlefield so he could not directly witness the conflict. However, somewhere in the void, the sound of swiftly flying craft, the discharge of ordnance, and the small explosions so common in dogfights were difficult to ignore. At this moment, Keith took some time to examine his arms.

Most cuts had healed nicely and there was no longer a need for bandages, so he removed them then and there to look at them closer. Ugly scars intermingled with reddish welts and fresh scabs. Upon closer inspection, he saw that some of the larger cuts were actually still bleeding, albeit slightly. The sight of that blood, and the stinging that accompanied it was what hammered all of it home for Keith.

This was no dream. As ridiculous as the last two weeks seemed, it finally became clear to the young man that he was, for all intents and purposes, actually where he was. If he felt pain, and if he bled, he knew he could die. No reset, no savepoints, no cheat codes. Being still just a kid, he knew that he had every reason to be afraid.

So why was that not the case?

How could he be so calm?

Why was he so convinced in his ability as a pilot?

Why was it that the throttle and the steering handle felt as normal in his hands as his knives or his tongs?

It simply didn't make sense. There was no way he had ever done this before, right?

"_You aren't scared you, Mr. Greers?"_ queried Eugene.

"_Most of my logic says I should be… but somehow I'm not afraid at all,"_ he admitted, genuinely confused. _"What's going on? If I felt scared or If I felt ready, I wouldn't mind either way, but this conflict is killing me; I'm never this indecisive."_

"_Relax, Mr. Greers,"_ reassured the old voice_. "I will not let you fail this test."_

Keith felt his hands grasp the controls and he felt his feet slide onto the pedals. Slowly, he eased the mammoth robot around the Nirvana, until he finally faced the battlefield. When his scanners finally picked up individual units, Keith's monitors lit up with all manner of data as he was flooded with information that he simply could not interpret or even handle all at once.

This was too gloomy. He needed a distraction. Maybe Eugene could oblige him.

"_Where exactly are you broadcasting from, anyway?" _Keith suddenly asked._ "Is there some kinda spy camera you're using, or did you have the doctor put some chip in me, or something?"_

Keith felt himself hit a series of switches, and from a hidden compartment in the Vanguard's back, a single platinum-handled sword became exposed to the vacuum of space with a quick wisp of air. This the mecha retrieved, with a clumsy flourish, and clasped onto with its right hand, held into place by activating crucial electromagnetic inlays present in the hands of every Vanguard. Unfortunately for Keith, this was the only weapon his particular Vanguard was equipped with, so if he wanted to stand even the slightest chance of surviving the next five minutes, his greatest priority was to keep this one-and-only sword in his possession.

"_To answer your second question: no, Mr. Greers." _Keith only rolled his eyes._ "And as for your first… well… suffice it to say that as far as you should know… I am everywhere."_

"_Ugh, fuck, so it is a chip, huh," _Keith remarked,_ "where'd the doctor put it, I hope it wasn't somewhere I can't see while standing up?"_

Keith clenched his teeth as he heard every forward turbine charge to full boost. Within the next few seconds, he knew he would pass the point of no return.

"_I will say no more, Mr. Greers, the test has begun."_

* * *

_A/N: _It would be insulting of me to even try and offer up an excuse, as I am well-aware that a great deal of time has passed since last we met. The reasons for my delay are manifold: I

1.) In April last year, I fulfilled a life-long dream and became married.

2.) In October of this year, my wife and I will welcome our first child into this world.

I sincerely hope that these reasons offer enough of an explanation as to my lax in updates, but I refuse to apologize. I was busy.

I am still busy and will be only getting busier. All the same, it was actually my wife, herself an avid anime fan, who convinced me take a break from my duties and relax in the way she knows me best. I simply hope that these reasons serve as adequate explanations.

I won't pretend that no one was disappointed, I know moreso than anyone that people were counting on me. I still bear with that and I pray that this story still has its place in the Vandread section. I have faith in my idea for this story, and again, I very proudly state that it's only just begun.

Thank you for keeping up with me for those of you have done so, and for you out there who do not know me, thank you for acting on your curiosity. I will try and make the long haul worthwhile.

I cannot say when updates will come, though I will say that the chapter following this is finished, but I'll wait a month at least until I post it. That way, we can take our time in catching up.

How did you like it? I don't know if it was worth the wait, but it's simply the best that I can do, as this is obviously no longer a priority in my life. All the same, I'm still here. And until the last chapter published, I'll be here.

The original version of this chapter was actually longer, encompassing the entire battle to come, but after reading it with my wife, she insisted I cut the fight out, work it into the bulk of the next chapter to, in her words, 'give the readers something to look forward to.' I guess I should have known better than to marry a girl who loves cliffhangers as much as I do. Other than that though, she also insisted that nothing tamper with the Barnette/Jura scenes as I actually managed to weasel a sob and a few tears from her.

I, Mr. Sci/fi-General-Adventure crafted a scene that elicited genuine emotion from a female. That in itself, I realized, was reason enough to leave this chapter as you see it.

So now that you what to expect, I ask you be patient until I post again. I know there are a lot of you out there with things to say to me, good and bad, so please leave a review and vent all you want, good and bad. It'll only make me better.

Until then, happy reading to you.

Pock.


	9. update

to all my readers, old and new:

when i posted the eighth chapter back in july, i had really hoped to do my best to push the story in its intended direction with some regularity, at least as well as i could have managed with what will be a very busy fall and winter. i had intended to post chapter nine at the end of august, when unfortunately, mother nature stuck her foot in my ass.

i don't like to give out private information about myself, but i feel in this instance, it will help to explain.

i had discussed a living situation with my wife before we were married and she insisted that we find a place near her parents' home. at first, i tried my best to forestall that outcome, because her inlaws thoroughly irritate me. however, after we got pregnant (now accepting name suggestions for a baby girl!), there was no longer an argument. so back in march we relocated to her hometown of kenner, louisiana, which is a suburb about 20 minutes west of greater new orleans.

voluntary evacuations began on august 30th, and we packed up what we could, including her parents, god help me, and drove non-stop to my cousin's place in austin, texas, even as hurricane gustav made landfall. some of my wife's friends have gone back to louisiana, and the news they talk about isn't all that uplifting. i'm trying to stay as positive as i can, because the last thing i want is to worry her, even though her mother inisists on sabotaging me by advertising her own worries.

at this point i really don't know what to do. i'm driving back in a few days to scout out the damage for myself, especially our home, our neighborhood, and my workplace (really important!). once i assess the situation, we'll make a decision together. she wants, more than anything, to continue her family's tradition of born and bred new orleans women, (you say tradition, i say... coincidence), and nothing would make her happier than to welcome our daughter in her hometown.

conversely, i know her mother thinks i'm being an emotionless neanderthal, but what matters to me is that my wife has a safe birth and that our girl is healthy. if that means delivering anywhere but new orleans, then so be it. this may be selfish of me, but i just wanna be there to hold my daughter, and have her mother hold all of us. what other, more perfect universe could exist outside of that?

anyway, that's my life as it is right now. i don't expect your pity and i don't want it. but what i do want is to plead for your patience and understanding. please consider that i'm faced with a greater set of challenges than i can remember ever encountering in my life. in fact, i consider it a therapeutic break to sit down at a library computer and post this apology; to be honest, it's the change of pace i'm craving.

i will apologize and concede that i have failed to deliver on my promise of an august update. had i known i'd be pulling up stakes and stranded away from my home, i'd have posted it much earlier. it is not my intention to mislead or disillusion any of you, so again, i'm sorry for breaking my word. and i know that at first glance this was an unnecessarily long message. but you know me and detail, right? besides, i think some of you have come to expect longwindednness like this from me...

all jokes aside, thank you so much for keeping up with my story. i really am amazed and unendingly grateful for your patience and your enthusiasm for my story, even with my inexcusable inconsistency. it seems really indulgent, even selfish of me to continually request your patience, and make no mistake, as a writer i am aware of my obligation to you. keeping that in mind, i sincerely hope you can bear with me.

as for a timeline, here's how it goes: if we decide to move back for the birth, i have to devote the rest of the month to catching up with work, tending to her needs, and doing house repairs. i'm told that in a hurricane, damage is a guarantee, the only question is how much. if i work my ass off, both off and on the clock, then maybe i can slow down in early october and focus less on my job. after the (safe, i pray) delivery, my schedule will be out of whack for a few months, and i have been planning for that. i'll find out if those horror stories everybody talks about are true.

what it boils down to is that what's coming is more inconsistency. please keep checking this story. message me, write a review, what ever it takes to keep me writing, because i promise you, it'll be easy for me to find reasons not to. i hate feeling like i have to ask you guys to do stuff for me, but i, more than anyone, wants this story to continue, to finish. i'll do what i can with the limit of my energy to stay the course as well with updates. becoming a father changes your ideas of responsibility and obligation, and, for me at least, this extends to you guys.

know that along with everything else i have to juggle, this tale is also in my thoughts.

know that that means you guys are as well.

again, with abashed repugnance i ask a thousand pardons, and until next time, hopefully soon, i wish you all happy reading.

pock.

* * *

p.s.

maybe my sense of correctness is a little old-fashioned, but i hope that at the very least, my american readers will contemplate that today marks the seventh anniversary of the attacks on September 11, 2001. i'm not saying you should pray, cry or even stop at all in your routine today. but i hope that even as you work, you set aside a sliver of a moment to remember. when you commemorate an event that is impossible or even inappropriate to celebrate, i think that remembering is the least that anyone is capable of doing and should be asked to do. i don't know why, but suddenly having tragedy thrust in your life and knowing you have to deal with its consequences sooner rather than later makes you more sensitive of the things you began to forget, as well as more thankful for the things you do remember.


End file.
